Dame of the Hunt
by Flame Falcon
Summary: Mia may have finally found the opponent that was foretold to her by that old crone so many years ago. The message is given to her in blood and smoke, along with a cadre of new horrors between her and this 'Huntress'. At the end of their encounter, one will die and the other will be forever changed... but which is the more merciful fate?
1. Rivals

**Well, after much delay based on a mixture of finals at Uni (still maintained the 4.0), work and laziness. I bring yet another installment in this series. Like Ludveck, Mia had a lot of potential to be a truly interesting and fun character. She has the heart and spirit to keep me entertained and a ridiculous motivation to bring a smile to my face but at the end became just a plucky sidekick compared to others. So hopefully I bring some more character to her. Please enjoy Dame of the Hunt!**

* * *

The rain began to fall as Mia looked for her opponent, knowing that she was somewhere around here. In the distance, thunder rumbled as if the heavens themselves trembled in anticipation for what was to come. One drop touched her face, and another to her studded shoulder pad. An arctic wind carried the cold water every which direction, splattering her face with its icy potential that would wear down mountains and take life so much as create it.

Beneath the battered moutain slopes, her friends and allies were fighting to hold off the rest of the small war band of these creatures. They were called flayed ones for both the skins they would take from their fallen opponents while the more ironic name was given because of their fleshless automaton forms. Mia knew them only as fearsome opponents, and the destined one she sought for so long was sitting in front of her.

The Huntress, the title Mia heard her called by those fortunate enough to escape its wrath, began to wrap a chain around her wrist that connected to her blade. Link by iron link with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Mia turned her head in an almost amused manner as she pointed the tip of her blade at the metal bonds. "Why do you do that?" The Huntress did not look up and kept her focus entirely on the links, coiling them tighter, tighter.

Even at this distance, the Huntress was a fearsome phantom of death. Perfectly sculpted baroque armor fit the butcher like a second skin, and shined with stainless purity. Long hair, white as hoarfrost hung down her back tied in a battle braid. The sword, a curved weapon clearly of a much older age done by the work of artisan hands. But the thing that drew Mia's attention the most was the ever-changing face plate. It held the face of a lion carved with ribbons of jade along with two sapphire teardrops coming from each eye, but the metal it looked as if it was in a constant state of burning and healing. It had an almost liquid texture to it, but it remained a solid defense.

Mia spun Alondite around with armored hands, the heavy bastard sword seemingly as light as a feather in her grip. Droplets of rain scattered as she cut the falling water. She chuckled as she brought the blade to an abrupt halt. "Are you afraid of losing your sword? A blade is freedom, mistress of murder. It is the wind, and the storm flash. As you chain it, so to do you chain yourself."

The Huntress was not listening, and Mia knew that in her mind the world was focusing into a point around that sword. To the flicker of it in the light followed by the instant after it where they would be in the red moments of bloodshed where they would do what they did best. To be lost in the place where the mind and body are one, a weapon crafted by powers far beyond their own mortal abilities. Mia felt a background pulse in her head as she did the same to her own weapon.

This was her world, as much a part of her as was the air that filled her lungs and the blood that flooded through her veins. Alondite was a weapon that she was almost alone in being worthy of carrying into battle. It had a long history of being wielded by both heroes and wicked souls. Mia hoped that her life would add to the glorious rather than infamous part of the weapon's saga. It was the final gift from her last master and true friend, one she still tried to emulate every day.

It was a heavy sword, almost as tall as she was and very heavy. Her fighting style was no longer her fluid form she had earned prowess with in the great wars of old, but she was ever the vanguard and exemplar of her craft. She looked at the silver blade, flawless in the design and the grains of metal moved in patterns unable to be replicated by human hands. Time began to grow heavy, moving slowly like oil over agitated ice. She flexed the grip on her weapon, feeling the weight shift as she let it dance between her fingers.

Mia never thought she would actually meet her white robed rival, but she could scarcely believe that it would be a creature of living steel and dark intentions. Not the most ideal rival but there wasn't much of a choice.

In fact there never was _any_ choice. Even if this was not her destined foe, as unlikely as it would be, killing this wench would be fine work for the rest of the world. Mia raised the sword upwards until the guard was horizontal to her collar bone. She took in a deep breath of air, feeling the rise and fall of blood in her body, then looked to her foe.

"Do you not want to know my name?" Mia asked as her opponent began to twirl her scimitar, the ribbons of illustrious forged steel slicing through the droplets of rain that fell. Armored hands blurred as with ease the opponent handled a weapon as if it were light as a feather. The Huntress abruptly stopped her blade with a snap in front of her eyes and held it face out at a ready position low at her waist. When she spoke, the weight of eons came with it.

" ** _I know of your name, Mia, The Lady of Crimea, Exarch of Steel, and the Death that Comes with a Smile. Such titles are inconsequential, for they are given to honor or desecrate. The sycophant and the subjugated. Ally and enemy alike. The question is if you know who we are by our deeds? If you see us and what we are fully capable of, then we are fearsome opponents indeed._** " Her voice was unfeeling, monotone, but there was something in it that made the words feel as dangerous as the sword in her hands.

A drop of rain fell on the tip of the scimitar and slowly moved down. The moment stretched out to infinity, the only sound was the impossibly distant sound of the Huntress and the thud of their hearts. The voice that spoke was like a whisper in her ear. " ** _But that is nothing at your peril if you cannot see us. Then all you will hear and know is our laughter_**."

The droplet of rain fell from the blade.

In an instant the Huntress let out a wail that would shame a banshee, Mia had to force herself to endure the pain and raise her blade instead of dropping it to cover her ears. The Huntress leapt high with unnatural agility and brought the blade crashing down upon Mia with a ringing of steel against steel. The impact was so powerful that Mia would have broken her sword arm at the wrist were in not for years of training that allowed her to spread the impact through her body to absorb the shock of the blow.

Mia skidded herself backwards, almost losing her balance for but an instant of the wet stone. She swung in low, keen on cracking the aegis of metal that protected her opponent's side. The Huntress, however, leapt backwards at the last possible moment that lead Mia to cut nothing but droplets of water. Mia brought the sword back and held it at a downward angle. The Huntress whirled back in, the blade nothing more than a greyish blur around its body. A simple counter stopped the blade mid-stroke and Mia struck out with a closed fist.

She instantly regretted it as her knuckles connected with only the steel face mask of the jaded lion as it suddenly hardened mere moments before, and her opponent threw her off balanced with a simple application of weight on the unbalanced Alondite. Mia rolled away from the execution swing. She felt the impossibly sharp blade touch her hair and took a locket off with the barest of glances.

Back on her feet, Mia swung her blade again and again until she was nothing more than a furious tempest of blurred steel mixed with scattered rain. Brining down blow following blow, the Huntress laughed that soul damning laugh as she ducked and pushed aside each strike of the blade. The rain whipped all around them, Mia's hair was a wet mop that cracked like a lash with each sharp movement of her body.

Their swords clashed again, and Mia could tell that her opponent was no longer smiling under that helmet. The Huntress had expected a short bout, a skirmish of minor proportions. Mia was glad to have proven her wrong. With a grunt of strength, Mia pushed her opponent away from her, giving about seven paces from each other. Her strength was tested, however she was still full of enough stamina to see her rival fall. " ** _You are everything they say you are_**." The Huntress said in between breaths.

Mia saw the twitch of her opponent's sword wrist and quickly moved to the right to dodge an incoming thrust. " ** _And you are more_**." Mia was not paying attention. Her mind was focused on the world of thrusts, slices, parries, angles and strength. The discipline of the blade flowed through her body as the breath in her lungs and the blood in her veins.

Mia swung her sword again, striking a blow on the face plate of the Huntress. An ear piercing wail escaped the Huntress's lips and Mia saw the wicked scar across the metal. But also impossibly it soon began to flush over, reforgeing in mere moments. Mia swore colorfully under her breath, and was soon back peddling from the constant onslaught that burst from the Huntress.

Her back slammed against a solid rock wall and had but a moment to roll away. Rather than sparking against the rocks, the blade of the Huntress cleaved clean through the solid bulwark of granite. A tumble of rocks fell down next to her and she kicked them aside. It gave Mia an opportunity to catch her breath but it was fleeting as she brought up Alondite in a defensive posture a moment too late and was knocked off her feet. The sword was bashed from her grasp and it went circling away from her.

Mia sucked in the cold wet air and tried to crawl over to the sword but felt a boot crash down on her back and an elongated arm scooped up Alondite with little effort. The huntress looked the weapon over and gave the blade a single twirl. " ** _Beautiful_**." She brought the blade pointing down. " ** _Then again, Antila always did know how to pick a good blade_**."

The sword thrusted down and Mia grabbed the blade tightly with fingerless leather gloves. The steel was digging through her armor. Her blood trickled down the slight fuller and the razor edges. Mia gritted her teeth in pain, throwing every iota of force her body could draw upon to removing the offending weapon from her hands. " ** _Such a shame, little girl. I went through the trouble of burning and slaughtering a shire to light your way. When I drag you screaming into the realm of death with your scalp as my reigns to the nightmares beyond, I want you to struggle!_** "

"Leave her, monster!" Mia looked to the side and saw Rhy's bruised and bloodied form with a gathering sphere of holy radiance mixed with a crackle of electricity. There was a sharp tang of ozone in the air, and Mia rolled to the side, allowing Alondite to clutter uselessly against the granite. The orb flew in the Huntress's direction but the thing eluded the blow though the sanctified flames scorched the stainless metal.

" ** _I will broker no interference in my hunt, prophet of the betrayer!_** " The Huntress lashed out her arm and the living metal extended with to form a whip like form made of unbroken chains. It flashed out and wrapped around the healer's neck. With a simple command gesture, the rope bucked up three meters before bringing it and the wounded Rhys crashing down to the ground with bone splintering force.

Slowly like a Fishing Spider dragging in its prey, the Huntress called back the links of metal that soon fused back into her armor. " ** _There are wonders beyond these mountains which you arrogantly cloister yourself behind. Wonders where empires are born and die in the blink of an eye! And I could use a traveling companion, your pretty skull with be hung from my mount's neck so that your witch lightning will herald my arrival. Would you like to see them with me?_** "

"No!" Mia kicked up her blade and brought the blessed weapon crashing down on the living metal, severing the connection to it and its wielder. She placed herself between the pale faced red-headed healer, using her body as a shield to protect him. "This is fight between us! My fate is to face my white robed rival alone!"

The Huntress stopped entirely, before she broke out in another chorus of laughter. Mia remained resolute, her hands gripping the blade of her sword tighter. Perhaps that is why the Huntress used those iron links to bind her sword to her. " ** _Oh, so that is what has brought such a sad and lost child out to test me? A fairy tale brought you out of your daydreams in a worthless life? Well child, at the end of this bout we will know how this tale ends._** "

The Huntress held her hand out to encompass everything, and the images flashed in the back of Mia's mind. The charred plantations of Begnion, the slaughtered caravans, and the message the wounded Ilyana bore her. It all flooded her senses…


	2. Reunion

**Well, here we are with another chapter, one I had particular fun writing. Also, quick birthday shout out to phineas81707, have a wonderful birthday! (Well, by my time it is your bithday I really don't know how much time has been lost due to the continental change. If this is later, then I hope you had a good birthday.)**

* * *

Only a few weeks earlier, Mia had not realized how drastic her life would change. It was the end of the longest winter of recent memory that lead into the late spring, and Mia returned to Griel's retreat for some rest. It had been a long time since she had seen any of her old friends and she knew Titania would not accept any of her coin for her hospitality. Money was tight for Mia at the moment, but in the life of a sell sword it was always feast or famine.

In the Pax Crimea that had taken hold all over the continent, she found work hard to find yet much more rewarding then in the six years prior. The old wounds of The Mad King's War and Ashera's Judgement were beginning to scar and some even started to heal if some were to be so optimistic. The feuding and squabbling nobles of the nations were brought into line though weather it would last longer than a few years had yet to be seen. Diplomats such as Bastian had created treaties bet tween the nation that, in all but name, the nations of Tellius were a loose confederation that were not going to war against each other any time soon. So as much to her delight that there was a chance for a lasting peace, fewer politicians aiming for their opponent's throat placed Mia out of full time employment.

Still there was always work to be done that could only be solved with the edge of her sword, Mia thought as she placed her boots down on the melting slush of snow. Bandits, especially in the frontier of the three human countries, were always a hassle and would need to be dealt with at some time. Though she was really thankful whenever Geoffrey paid her some gold as an 'advisor' to the Royal Knights to help teach them swordsmanship of different disciplines than the ones they were raised with.

She handed off the rains of her horse, Thunderhead, to the stable boy with three pieces of silver to take good care of the animal. They usually did, but Mia did not want to have this be the stable boy's off day and she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

She moved past the stables and made her way to a long lodge where healthy white smoke belched from the brick chimneys. The evening chill was fresh in her veins, every fiber of her being yearned to be in that hall. She heard the faint sound of music come from behind the door, and the smell of good food came inexorably from it. This was the closest thing she had to a home and the joy of coming home washed over her.

She pushed the mighty oaken door open and relished the warmth of the mead hall. The sounds, smells and sights of old friends greeted Mia's senses like a long lost lover. The mighty fire pit had half-cords of wood piled on in even numbers, producing a light haze of aromatic smoke that wafted upwards towards the smoke ports in the ceiling.

Steaming tankards of thick malted liquor had been poured from the many caskets and were bring brought to the assembled warriors, many of them the veterans of the recent wars. Rather than bowing their heads in commemoration to the fallen, many raised their voices and drinking horns to salute the slain. Crimean and Daien alike sat around in gangs recounting the deeds of old comrades while sharing a laugh at the thought of it all. Old enemies were locked arm in arm singing off key, drunken chants to the sound of the bard's lute of familiar songs while raising their drinking horns.

A part of Mia wanted to find a group of these young men and women to join them. To tell of her exploits while dense foam ran down her lips as she drank from the pewter stein. She wanted to feel the warmth of the fire and feel the revelry of comradery with other soldiers. She knew that if she joined, they would welcome it. They would give her a jack of ale and tell of the battles Mia the Shield Maiden of Crimea, how the Exarch of Steel singlehandedly bested the General Patrine with nothing more than a single stroke of her blade. They would throw copper at the songster to sing one of the many tales of the Greil Mercenaries that focused on this lovely maiden.

But she hung away from the fire and crowds. Her eyes scanned the horizon, looking for an old friend who she knew would be there.

She found Mist not too far away from the fire and when she locked her eyes on the girl, Mist waived her hands to direct Mia over to her. Mia felt a smile cross her face and carefully made her way through the crowd of revilers, the words 'excuse me' and 'pardon me' came from her lips in rapid succession. More than once the hilt of her great sword hit the face of a drunken patron, though thankfully she soon slipped out of sight before she could be accosted.

Meeting her old friend for the first time since the first winter storm, Mia embraced Mist with a deep hug. "Oh, it is good to see you again Mia. I haven't heard from you in so long I thought the worst had befallen you."

"I'm a hard person to kill, you know me well enough. Well, are you going to hold me all night or are you going to help an old friend down a pint?" Mia laughed and Mist withdrew to show Mia the seat at their small table, with a pewter tankard full of thick winter mjord, a mead made from ripe white pears and honey. Mia unhooked her sword from her back and laid it against the wall next to her and reached out for the handle of the drink. "Is there some occasion I should be drinking to?"

"It is the twenty-fifth of March, the Eve of Antila's Ascension." Mist replied and looked around the room. "It is really only celebrated in Begnion as a holy day to remember the fallen in the name of the Goddess and to lift up their prayers in commemoration. Though it appears Daiens and Crimeans alike use it as an excuse to celebrate being alive and remembering the merry times they had."

"Considering how close the nations have become, I guess that is to be expected." Mia said as she tasted the sweet yet bitter foam from her drink. She felt her mood turn sour for a moment, and it impacted how she spoke. "But ascended… to what? A flawed immortal individual trying to perfect flawed mortals, and we celebrate only the most notable one of her misguided pets. Where are they now, these legends of old spoken now only in song and lore? Altila is dead, Dheginsea was slain by our hands as an erroneous fool, Lehran is in self-imposed exile and Soan is gone from the pages of history forgotten by his own kind as our own memories are wiped clean of such a noble beast. A marbled tower kept the goddess away from us, a prison that was a bandage not a cast. What is worth celebrating on this blighted day then if it is all pretense is rendered meaningless when you really think about it?"

Mist could not help but feel her friend's frustration with the situation, but managed to reach down into the pit of cynicism to pull Mia out. "We have fought, bled and died across a dozen battlefields for many years. For one night, one night out of the year, could we not take the time to enjoy life no matter what name it may carry? To revel in the victories we have accomplished and raise our hearts to those we can no longer be with us?"

Mia shook her head violently, dispelling the bitter thoughts. "I guess you are right. It is a good night any way, and what better way to share it than with a tankard of drink with an old friend." She threw her head back and sucked down the delicious alcohol. "So how is being a new mother?"

Mist gave a smile, though Mia could tell that there was a little bit of force behind it. "Elena has been nothing but a bundle of joy and a mess to handle all at the same time." Ah, so it was girl Mia thought as she bought the thick liquor to her lips. "Boyd said he would handle her tonight when I told him you were going to be in the area. This is the second or third time he has seen her since her birth almost a month ago." Mist crushed the sadness in her voice by taking a drink of cloudberry liquor from her brass goblet.

Mia placed the tankard down and tore off a chunk of turnip bread that was on their table. "I thought you two were going to settle down at the castle in Melior and raise your family there."

Mist sighed, "We tried that but Boyd always managed to find a few of his old mercenary friends to go on jobs that would last for weeks on end. Not that I was too concerned for him, but it just didn't really feel right. Especially when he did it a day after Elena was born, it always seemed that I was always just a secondary priority in the grand scheme of things."

Mia patted her old friend's hand, "Marriage isn't going to be the happy be-all-end-all it has been trumped up to be. You still are going to have disagreements and you only got married three years ago. If this was happening thirty years down the road I would be a little concerned why you didn't kick him to the curb yet."

"Yes, he is a good husband and a great father but…" Mist's face turned beat red with embarrassment, and Mia knew what she was about to say but still wanted to hear it with a smirk. "Boyd hasn't been addressing… the needs of me being a woman. Before Elena we were… involved almost every week. Even then…"

"He was a lousy lay?" Mia asked bluntly as she took a drink from her mug.

"In the crudest of forms, yes he is. He was only in it for himself and didn't care too much about my concern unless it was my birthday or our anniversary." Her face was now completely red, and stuttered with awkwardness. "Why don't we-we change the subject?"

"Sounds like you need this break from the child indeed." Mia chuckled and took another drag from her tankard and decided to turn the subject of the conversation to her. "Well, I just got my latest fee from Geoffrey training his knights. I was paid for three weeks training though it was only two. I tried to get an answer out of Geoffrey but he told me that something was afoul in Volus. It might just be because of the bad weather keeping the local tithe of minerals coming down the mountains, but he is taking his entire company of Royal Knights."

Mist shuttered, "One does not simply take almost two hundred knights to deal with the weather. Geoffrey has a knack for feeling danger, though I pray this time his instincts prove him wrong."

Mia nodded, "I am sure it is nothing. But this is a time to be together and to rejoice in open arms. Why muse of things not yet happened?"

Mist shrugged. "That answer is at the bottom of your mug."

"I couldn't agree more."

* * *

Several hours of drinking and eating passed until there was nothing but small flames and cherry red embers on the great fire pit in the center. Several of the customers had lain down next to the smoldering coals of the fire, while those who bought rooms had long left for it. Mist had left for her cabin shortly before last call was given, and Mia had spent that time in the chair using turnip bread to mop up the pulled pork drippings on her platter.

Mia herself was reclining in her chair, the warm flush of alcohol was still in her system. She was dazed from the consumption of the strong drink, but she was still in complete control of her senses. Her back was towards the light of both moons, and she looked over her sword Alondite, admiring the way the blade seemed to glow even when it was no longer in the embrace of the twin sister's light.

The weaves of iron wrapped around the blade like a slowly rising coiled rope, and the hilt was wrapped with red leather and ray skin. The guard was worn down and had many small nicks that this weapon had earned through the six hundred years it was rumored to have survived. It was well kept, Mia polished it every week, sharpened it after every battle. It was Ike's parting gift to her, a final gift sealed with a friendly peck on the cheek as he headed off to lands unknown. How much trust he placed in her, his faith in her to care for such a relic…

"Mia!" She heard her voice called out in a loud whisper, drawing her out of her drunken musings of something trivial and of long times passed. Mia sheathed her blade and sat up straight. She looked to where it was spoken from and heard the named said again. She did not need to be sober to know who it was, no voice was that timid yet full of conviction. But there was something that washed over her like glacier water.

Fear was in Rhys voice.

She hobbled over to Rhys, partly due to her drunkenness and the other part trying not to make someone wake up. She was about to greet Rhys in a friendly manner but felt as if an ice specter had gripped her heart. Rhys' eyes were heavy with sadness and fear, and he simply made the gesture to follow him. Mia walked through the slush to the small chapel where she saw Titania standing over something- no, someone.

It took all of Mia's willpower not to scream at the sight of a broken and bloodied Ilyana, who made every breath she take seem like it might soon be her last.


	3. Revile

**Apologies** **for the tardiness of this chapter, being away from reliable wifi and working on scholarships took my attention away from this chapter. Hopfully it will not be a habit of mine and the next chapter should come shortly.**

* * *

"I have given everything I could for her, but these wounds are resilient to my magic and healing tonics." Rhys said solemnly as Mia stroked the ice cold and sweat stained cheek of Ilyana. "She came here bloodied on the mount of a wild horse. She didn't speak of what happened, but I think she was with the caravan."

Mia didn't respond, only looking at the shuttering form of an old friend. She hummed a familiar tune to the lightning mage, in the vain hope that it would rouse the woman. There had been no avail so far, but Mia held on to hope. For three hours, she stayed by Ilyana's side in case she would wake up. Any pretense of drowsiness fled from her, as did any haze from drunkenness. Everything was as clear and sharp as a diamond optic.

"How far did she ride, given her wounds and the temperature of her body?" Titania asked, her arms folded over her chest as she looked through the stain glass window. The crack of dawn was at the edge of the horizon, blood red light showed through the various images of their mythology. She hadn't been at peace ever since she found the young mage and her horse slump towards her while she was on an evening walk. Her motherly instincts took over and instantly brought her to Rhys as fast as she could run. Her armor was still stained with spots of crimson.

"I cannot say, had I to place a guess I would say maybe two hours away." Rhys responded not taking his eyes off the wounded mage. "She lost a substantial amount of blood and judging by her mount, it couldn't have been very far away."

"Bandits perhaps?" Titania asked as she looked back to the three. "They seem to be more of them, especially in the underdeveloped frontier. It could be possible that she was ambushed and… assaulted her." She didn't want to finish the thought with the word all knew would be more fitting.

"No." Mia responded in a slightly hoarse voice. "Simple bandits nor a brigand king would have been able to gain the upper hand over her even in a famished state. Something else got to her, that I am sure of."

Rhys dabbed down Ilyana's brow once again and let out a small sigh of relief as her breathing became slightly steadier. "I agree with you. There were only sword wounds, and she had no signs on her of self-defense. If there were any attempts, even without her book of spells, she would have fought back against her attackers. Who or what ever attacked Ilyana was far more than a mere highway man."

The light purple haired girl began to stir and her eyes slowly opened. He lips quivered, trying to form a single syllable but nothing came out besides a choked noise. Mia rushed to hold Ilyana's head at a side, causing a dense ball of semi-solid blood to erupt from her mouth, which was soon followed by a coughing fit.

Finally, there was something audible. A simple syllable, but it could be heard clearly. "M…M…"Mia waited with baited breath, while the other two gathered around to make sure that they too could hear whatever the young mage said. "M… Mm…Meat…"

There was a moment's hesitation, wondering if they had heard that correctly. It dawn on them that Ilyana must have been a long time without any food. Titania quickly ran for the kitchen of the mead lodge to grab the starving mage something to regain her strength while Mia and Rhys tried their best to comfort her. She was awake now, but they couldn't take any chances that there might be a relapse and kill the poor thing.

* * *

"By the spirits." The white cloaked man swore under his breath as he walked, no waded, through the slaughtered. Fluid sloshed around his leather boots, blood and other less savory liquids. The winter's cold had retarded the decomposition and the smell was still that of coppery iron, so there was one small blessing to be taken from all of this. The smell was not that of rotting meat that would have followed after such a massacre. "Every last one of them. Gutted, flayed, some even hanged to dry like diseased livestock."

"I thought our foes had some semblance of honor." His other cloaked companion who wore an elaborate cloak of azure and silver said, using an elongated oak staff to roll a corpse over. He knelt down amongst the slaughtered, looking at the chaff before the scythe. "There is little glory in butchering the defenseless, much less one such as this. A simple plantation on the ass-end of nowhere, represents little in the way of challenge or strategic importance. Crimea has dozens more of plantations like this, and many of them are far larger that produce more goods. It doesn't seem a place an organized military would place high on the priority list."

The second cloaked man looked over to the third of their group, and the only one wearing armor. Though they were in no danger here in the slaughter fields, this one was never seen without his elaborate armor even at rest. " ** _Sport_**." The armored figure spoke the word with the deep and resonate voice as he closed the eyes of a laguz laborer. " ** _They were killed for sport_**. **_Such an isolated venue gave them the perfect opportunity to learn how to kill in a methodical manner. Culling such as this gives my kin the reawakening of their skill that had long since laid dormant._** "

The white cloaked one drew an artisanal sword and sliced the binds that kept a few of the corpses suspended above the ground. They fell with a bone snapping wet crunch sound, blood filling the cracks in the dry earth that was not covered by snow slush. "It would seem this manner of murder fits the demeanor of this awakened one you referred to as The Huntress. Many of these wounds are identical." He held the chin up of an overseer, a simple throat slash as if it was delivered from on top of a mount. "There are dozens more like this one. Simple and effective, though they are difficult to deliver by a skilled swordsman."

"Aye." The staff wielding man pulling back his own hood. Unlike his companions, a band of cloth from a clergyman's robes covered his eyes, a symbol of the newly united Goddess adorning it along with other various runes from a much older age were scrawled on it with amethyst ink. He placed his hand to the temple of a young girl, and bowed his head.

The other two looked at the remaining bodies tallying the dead in their heads. There were so many killed in such a rapid secession that it boggled the mind of one, but to the other there was a jaded numbness to any feeling. This was only the beginning, and with so few attackers this was child's play compared to what they would be fully capable of in the fullness of time.

The blind man released his grip on the girl's head and closed her eyes. "Daughter of Altila, please wipe away your tears for you are now back in her embrace. Find the peace in death that we all are denied in life. Farewell." He murmured the prayer and rose to his feet. "There were seventeen of them. None of the mindless foot soldiers that we have met before, these were bloodied."

" ** _Can you describe their heraldry? Perhaps any notable features of their armor that you read from her departed soul?_** " The armored lord asked as he finished his count. One hundred and twenty-one freshly slain, not counting the caravan that was almost assuredly ransacked and destroyed.

"Three bisecting lightning bolts, each one of a different hue. They were captured in a circle of a serpent eating its own tail with a clenched fist around the bolts of lightning. They all wielded swords, though other instruments of the apex-predator were seen. Crossbows I have never seen before, bolas and spears. The Huntress herself wore a helm, the symbol of a lion adorning it." The blind man spoke, as the Flayed One amongst them placed his hand under his chin. "They headed northerly, following a caravan. They spoke in plain tongue in taunts and command, some had spoken whispers about Volus."

"Volus. That is at least five hundred miles away, no way will we be able to make it to there and turn the tide of the battle." The white robed one spoke, who walked back to the other companions. His boots sloshed the blood around him, but it refused to be stained by the life fluid of the slain. "These hunters may try to join their wayward kin there."

" ** _Gather the dead, we shall commend them to the empyreal afterlife in a grand funeral pyre._** " The armored fighter commanded and reached down to tenderly pick up the corpse of a young mother, in her arms the smothered cadaver of her infant child. " ** _Volus will be lost, long before these slaughterers can reach the main army. They will vanish like the morning mist to the rising sun, unable to be found by the means the Queen and King can needlessly expend on a fruitless venture."_**

"Then we shall find them?" The first speaker asked, pulling back his own hood to give some respect to the slain, revealing groomed locks of chestnut brown hairs with similar piercing eyes. "Or do we intend to find one who can while we chase our own ghosts?"

" ** _If you wish to remain in my good graces, penitent, you shall do your best to watch your tone and tongue or I shall find insult with your words._** " The Flayed One placed the corpse in a barn and reached his hand down to summon a small ball of sparks that became a pure ball of crackling blue flame. " ** _To answer your question, we have more important loose ends to tie up, and the luxury of chasing down a single commander is not given to us. Once these bodies have been burned, we shall head southerly to the Begnion bogs. I have an old friend to meet there._** "

He placed the orb of flame into the tinder dry straw and ignited the fuel. He bowed his head, lauding the dead who went to join their ancestors while the two others gave their own honor to the slain before they were laid unto the growing pyre. They would make sure there was nothing left of the slaughtered, a funeral to these forgotten with them as the sole observers of their transition to the spirit plane. He spoke in the old tongue, syllables long forgotten by the passage of time and incantations as dead as he was.

The old one had spoken a half truth. They would indeed head south, but he had to be sure that the Huntress would be found lest she would slaughter again.

He also knew who would be the perfect opponent of a mistress of slaughter.

* * *

Ilyana lowered the meaty broth bowl from her lips with shaking hands. Her wounds still remained, but it seemed that after a time the resistance to magical healing abated. She certainly sounded better, though there was a weakness that clearly was in her voice that was more profound than her usual meekness. "Thank you, Lady Titania. I-I never expected… such hospitality."

"Pfft. I am not some soulless monster who would turn away from one of my former companions when they needed it." Titania said as she adjusted the blanket around Ilyana who was now seated in a feather bed at the barracks. "I would have liked you to give me some warning to expect you so I could prepare a hog for you, though considering the circumstances I think I can forgive you."

Ilyana smiled and returned to finishing the bowl of broth, the noodles with the meat and peppers the first thing gone. Mia had finally allowed herself a short time to sleep next to Ilyana, assured that she was better. The sun was now firmly over the horizon, and now with her strength recovered and her companions surrounding her, Ilyana needed to tell them what happened.

Once she finished the soup with a satisfied slurp, she pushed it aside and the look of fear once again covered her face. "I… I can't say what exactly happened… all I know is that it… was a slaughter."

She took in a deep breath of air, trying to steady herself. "I…I was asleep when it happened. The caravan had…just stopped at a plantation. We stayed longer than we shoul-should have. But…they had such good food."

Ilyana shivered, though Mia quickly rushed to place her hand, providing some comfort to her. "I woke when I heard screaming. I… saw shadows of murder outside the wagon. I tried to grab my book… my staff… but everything… everything happened so fast."

"What happened? Who were they? Bandits, rouge knights?" Rhys asked, each time Ilyana weakly shook her head when he listed off a different name of something it could be.

"They… they were war incarnated. Steeds… steeds fashioned from bones and shadow. Armor pulled from dark nightmares. Weapons… oh blessed goddess… the weapons. There were so few of them and… and they slaughtered everyone. They spoke… but it was how they spoke that made it seem foreign." She stopped as a lone tear ran down her left cheek. "I…I couldn't fight, I couldn't speak… all I could do was run… but one of these creatures found me running. She… she wounded me."

"All of this? From one fighter?" Titania asked with shock in her voice.

"Yes… each time she swung her curved sword… she cut me. Only when the master trader… thr-threw himself in front of me… did I escape. I rode north for as long… as I could."

"How far was that?" Mia asked. Her free hand slowly moving to the enclosed Alondite.

"Maybe three… hours. But I-" She was about to finish her sentence, but Mia had already leapt from the bed. She ran as if the wolves were on her heels to her mount, to head towards the slaughter Ilyana had survived. She hoped that others had survived, but hope was the first step down the long road to disappointment.


	4. Repulsion

**Another week, another chapter. Hopfully it was well worth the wait. Please enjoy.**

* * *

When she first saw the caravan, Mia had almost let go of the reigns as both of her hands became numb. She had seen terrors first hand, things that would shatter the psyche of any normal individual and leave them a nervous wreck in the asylum for the rest of their lives. She had seen the dead of a battlefield stretch from one edge of the horizon to another, an execution of a criminal by the hand of the Mad King Ashnard of hanging, drawing and quartering, as well as the insanity of a goddess. Horrors none could look at and turn away unchanged.

So when she felt faint at the sight that laid before her, there was no making light of the atrocity.

The caravan was a scene of carnage. The slush was soaked crimson with blood, and the bloodied piles of skinless meat she assumed were the remains of the merchants. The sun was now high overhead, and she prayed for darkness, so she could lie to her mind that it was a trick. But this was no trick, the dead were everywhere. Off at the corner of her eyes, she saw a wild wolf drag off what looked like the shin bone of a young boy.

Skin hung like cloth from the tree branches as it swung gently in the breeze. Bloodied sigils were painted onto the canvas goods of the wagons. Every nightmare that could be conjured from the darkest recesses of the minds of mortals was clearly on display before her. Mia slid slowly off her saddle, the scarlet slush sloshed over her leather boots as she walked numbly around, surveying the entire scene of slaughter.

Gorge rose in her throat and instantly she fell down on all four, the contents of her stomach mixing with the bloodied snow. She couched as the revolting taste washed over her, and soon a second bout of pure acid erupted from her mouth. Even after she though there was nothing left, her body still wanted to acknowledge the scene in revolt. Her stomach continued to sharply contract with nothing coming out.

She tried to rise, but her weakened legs collapsed and she fell face first into the muck, narrowly avoiding the pile that had mere moments earlier had been in her. She tried to thrash her way out of the sludge, clasping to the blooded cart wheel for support. With great effort and shaking arms covered in a cold sweat, she pulled herself up under the shadow of a great tree.

Instantly her repulsion doubled over. Skinless torsos of what had once been people were hanged by long ropes of organs, blood falling down into the permeated ground with a sickening rhythm. She wiped her face off, but her clots were soaked in the bloodied mire hat all she did was spread it around. Everything she thought denied the scene around her. This couldn't be real!

But the smell of the dead, their blood on her face, and that same essence slowly dribbling down to her lips where she inadvertently tasted it proved that this was no drunken night terror. This was reality, and monsters whispered at the edge of campfires were no construct of the imagination but real horrors. She looked to the south and saw billows of black smoke, obviously the direction form where Ilyana had said that the caravan had come from.

She took thirteen paces away from the scene, each step taking a tremendous effort. Exhaustion and denial seeped into her veins, her vision became cloudy with colors muting over one another. In the horizon she saw a figure of dull white with fire red hair.

It was the last thing she saw when she collapsed into a horror filled unconsciousness. Her last thought was that of relief when she saw pure white snow rise up to meet her.

* * *

The early twilight came around three in the afternoon, when the sun was beginning to droop to the horizon, and the two cloaked figures prepared a fire inside the mouth of a cave. The first spring storm was on the horizon, the rumble of thunder in the distance was like a god stirring in slumber. Striking flint against steel, Ludveck tried to get the tinder lit while his other companion, who chose to reveal himself only as Caliban, shielded him from the wind. Finally, on his thirteenth try, Ludveck managed to get the tinder lit and slowly fed the dry bark on to the small flame. The flame grew, and Caliban sat down, hooking an iron kettle with newborn pine needles and tea leaves over the flames. "I would prefer something stronger than tea, warms the body as good as the fire." Ludveck mentioned as he unsheathed his sword and a whetstone from his side pouch.

Caliban looked into the flames with long dead eyes, their scarred and milky pupils unmoving to the ever changing flames. "That 'warmth' is your heat leaving the body. Drinking rice wine in this weather is inadvisable at best." He instinctively adjusted his cloak as there was another rumble off in the distance. The storm was getting closer, and the chill began to gnaw at their flesh once again. "Where has he gone?"

Ludveck did not need Caliban to clarify. "Observing an evening ritual among the trees." He placed a little water on the stone and began to run his blade over it in a gentle circular motion. "He took five incense sticks and some food. What that is for I have not the slightest clue."

"He has been gone for three hours, the cold will sap him of his strength. We have over three hundred miles to journey to the southern bogs, over hills and across rivers." Caliban responded as he placed a few more dry sticks of the fire. "We cannot afford to take the main trade routes, lest you be spotted. Even after your exile, you still cut quite the recognizable figure."

"Compliments on my looks from a blind man. I do not know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment." Ludveck mentioned in a light tone, perhaps the lightest Caliban has heard since they first met. "Though I am forced to agree. If I am found and captured, I doubt Elincia will be as merciful as sending me back to Shade's Atoll."

"Queen Elincia." Caliban corrected him. "Unlike us, she still has her title and should be honored as such. If she was a weak ruler or a corrupt despot, I would not remind you." Ludveck pursed his lips together, suppressing a few choice and words not rising to the bait Caliban had strung for him. He placed his head down and continued his work on the blade.

The two attended their weapons in silence, as the tea kettle began to whistle with growing intensity. Caliban reached over to pull it from the fire and laid out three cups to pour the boiling liquid. Even with his sightless eyes, Caliban poured the liquid with ease. _There are other ways to see_ he would always respond whenever Ludveck asked him about his seemingly obvious disability.

He took his cup and spared the blind swordsman another glance at those long dead optics. Judging by the scars on and around them, no accident or natural ailment claimed their use. Ludveck had formed a dozen possible answers to that, but never had the gall to say them aloud. He pushed the thoughts away and raised the cup to his lips.

The hot drink warmed him, though he still would have preferred a goblet of mulled wine to send the cold away. "Take this drink to him. I have a feeling he will need it if his vigil will last through the storm." Caliban motioned to the third cup, steam rising from the liquid in the air between the two. Ludveck finished his own cup, placed it down of the smooth stone beneath him, and took the other one as he ventured outside.

The wind had begun to pick up, and thankfully he did not venture far into the forest to find him. Ludveck saw the one who had taken him from that goddess forsaken island to find a new purpose knelt down without a helmet in pile of wet dead leaves. Even without his helmet, the individual had never shown his face to anyone, always to be sure that all was seen was the back of his head. Thick blue hair fell down in a mess but at the same time there was a method to it. His curved sword laid down at his side while a longer blade he had never drawn before remained on his back, wrapped in crimson cloth. "You have something for me?" The voice seemed almost normal, but there was still something alien about it.

"Caliban thought you would need this." Ludveck held the cup out, and the kneeling flayed one took it without turning his head. Ludveck saw five incense sticks burning, the sweet fumes permeating the air around them, with a small letter carved into each one. G, E, M, L, and P. Names for people he assumed, or perhaps they were a bitter memory he sought to atone for.

"My thanks." He responded as he finished his cup in a single sip, handing the wooded drinking vessel back to Ludveck. A sigh escaped his lips, and he bowed his head once again in contemplation. As the incense continued to burn in the wind, the figure murmured a few more syllables before he made a symbol on his chest with a metal gauntleted finger. "Be prepared to make the journey alone tomorrow. Head south to the bogs, I will meet you there."

"Reason for your absence?" Ludveck asked, as he saw the flayed one get to his feet, sword attached to his side and helmet under the crook of his arm. The figure he saw was the exact same that greeted him in his time of madness, an angel of death and destruction from a time when Crimea was not born. A small part of him shrank back, but he would not show weakness.

"I have a loose end to tie up here, the Huntress may be a single commander from my time on the battlefield, but the longer she remains out there the more havoc she can wreak." He shook his head and slammed his helmet on with the face plate retracted. "I need to make sure that someone will hunt her down and end her misbegotten life. I have the perfect candidate, and she is also the new target of the huntress."

"Who is she?" Ludveck asked, with a surprised tone he could not hide. If anyone should be hunting down a murderess like the one they saw inflict so much slaughter, they should be the ones.

"You have met her before, betrayer knows she was one to end your mad scheming." The runes that adorned his armor flared to life with an ultramarine hue, and the lord raised his hand in a clenched fist to the tempest sky. A bolt of eldritch lightning engulfed him and with a deafening crack, he was no longer there.

* * *

Mia opened her eyes, and breathed out a sigh of relief to see that she was no longer amongst the land of the dead. She was alone, back in her old bed of the barracks. A jug of water, a hunk of turnip bread, and a bowl laid down on her nightstand with a crimson soaked cloth. Mia continued to stir and she then noticed a fresh set of clothes on her. Titania was asleep on a corner chair, her head bowed and arms crossed against her armored chest. The sky was dark with the rumble of thunder off in the distance. How long had she been out?

With weakness sapping her every limb, Mia threw the blankets off and walked over to the jug to pour some of the water into the bowl. The crystal clear liquid flowed into the oaken vessel and she washed her hands in it, splashing the cold liquid on her face to awaken her senses. She honestly could not thank Titania enough from bringing her away from the scene of murder, but she also couldn't bring herself to wake the mother to her about it either.

Mia numbly took the hunk of turnip bread and began to eat it, trying to give some strength back to her shaken frame. She could not still believe what exactly she saw out there, and what fresh horrors there were if she had moved to follow the smoke. She was human, and she thought she could take anything the world had thrown at her. She had been proven wrong once again.

She looked out the window and saw violet lightning ripple across the sky. It was as if the heavens themselves were enraged with what had happened. A bolt of lightning struck the hill near her window and she averted her eyes as the flash blinded her, and covered her ears for the deafening thunderclap that followed.

None came.

Mia opened her eyes and saw that where the bolt had struck, there was now an individual. A tall armored figure with a billowing white cape and no fewer than two swords, one of which was drawn. She could see eyes made of pure fire looking down at her, as if in contempt for her and as if to challenge her. She looked for Alondite, and founded laying on top of her armor. Mia rushed over and slid the assortment of plates and leather and unsheathed the silver blade.

She quietly left her room to meet this figure in white, being careful all the while not to wake Titania from her slumber.

In truth, she didn't need to worry as the second she closed the door and began to tiptoe down the stairs, the scarlet haired paladin rose from her chair. She hefted her axe over her shoulder and followed one of her daughters, just to make sure she wasn't off to do anything foolish.


	5. Revealed

**Well, here I am with yet another chapter. Another chapter will be on its way soon, until then please enjoy.**

* * *

Mia felt awake when she walked into the rain storm. Any sense of weakness in her limbs was washed away with the chill of the rain. She slowly sloshed her way up the hill, the torrents of rain forcing the snowy slush to run along her legs as she made her way to this challenger. He remained perfectly still, almost like a statue. Goddess, she almost believed it a few times, but those eyes… they were a paradox that killed the thought. They radiated security like a lighthouse in the middle of a gale, but was also the gaze of one who held death as a close friend.

"You have come." The words were so impossibly faint that she barely heard them over the storm, but it was as clear as if he had whispered into her ear. The voice was normal, human almost, but there was something to the accent. It rang deep with the resonance of arcane eons past, venerable and powerful. "How could I have ever suspect something else from the one they call Mia?"

He spoke with a familiarity to her, yet there was also a sense of superiority to him. As if he was above her in life, and there was a tone of contempt if she could decipher it. "You know my name." Her hand instinctively reached for Alondite, though she made her stance plainly defensive. "I might feel bad for not knowing your own. I would prefer a name to give to a swordsman in white."

The figure scoffed, an unnatural sound as she thought she heard two voices commit to the same vocal equivalent of an eye roll. "Save your breath, daughter of Antila, I am not the one you seek to fulfil your anticipated combat. I may be one to point you in the direction to find the possible one."

"Sounds like speech to get out of a fight, coward." Mia responded with the offhanded comment, and instantly regretted it as she was knocked on her back by a powerful open palm blow that slammed her face, particularly right on her nose. The cold slush shocked her back as she saw this figure stand over with a curved blade held tightly by his side with the left arm fully extended. It was delivered with the resolve of a beast tamer bringing the charge to heel. She tasted blood as it pooled down her face, and wiped it off with the back of her hand. Whatever reservations she had were tossed into the wind in an instant. She would not be cowed by such an insult upon her honor.

She was back on her feet with Alondite and a cry unsheathed, ready to strike her foe down. The one who struck her quickly raised his own sword to block her blow, their blades slicing through the rain as the rose together. With a clang of steel, the two pressed their weight against each other. Mia hoped that Alondite would be enough to offset her opponent, but the figure of metal seemed to have experienced her fighting style and offered the perfect counter.

The stranger slid the blade along the edge of Alondite, causing a small shower of sparks and setting Mia off balanced. She recovered and narrowly avoided the edge of the blade. She regained her footing and let loose another brutal chop downward with her sword. Unable to bring the curved blade up in time, the stranger raised a plated gauntlet. Alondite clanged against the metal and she prepared for another strike of her sword. Before she could strike out, she tasted the sharp tang of super charged air all around her. She realized too late what that pertained.

From that gauntleted hand, crippling bolts of amethyst lightning escaped erupted with powerful force. Mia felt her body convulse as she was sent skidding through the slush by the blast fifteen paces. The figure kept the charge for a few more moments that stretched into eternity, before he clenched his fist, canceling the magical effects.

Mia felt the heat leave her body, taking short raspy breaths. How could he do that without a spell book? No one, not even the cold mage Soren could ever accomplish such a feat. What… what was this? "Have we a respectful and calm tongue now-gahh!" His question was interrupted with the sound of metal being torn apart, a torrent of words in tongues Mia didn't recognize spilled forth from his mouth. Mia saw blood that was not her own stain the slush and saw a very crossed Titania standing next to her attacker.

"Get away from her, whatever you are!" Titania moved to cover Mia, who was struggling to get to her feet. With the constant storm flashes, Mia could see how good Titania cleaved this interloper. The entire plated arm was wrenched open, crimson fluid spilling forth and the arm was hanging uselessly next to his side. Such a wound would keep him from fighting at his…

The thought died in her mind when she saw something that defied all of reality. The figure spun his curved blade around as if he let it dance between his fingers before he slammed it into the ground blade first. He then took two fingers and ran them along the open wound. Instantaneously, the wounds seemed to disappear as if it had never existed. Then the metal began to form back to a solid piece, the rupture becoming solid once again. That spare hand then gripped his dislocated shoulder. With a grunt of pain and a sickening crack, the arm became fully functioning once again.

Pulling the sword out of the ground, he adopted another ready stance. "Perhaps pain will improve your manners." Mia was back on her feet, and save a slightly frazzled mind along with a few stray hairs standing up before being put down by the rain, feeling much like her old self.

"Two on one, the game is over." Titania said as she slowly began to match the stranger's paces in a slow circular motion. Both Mia and Titania noticed the second sword strapped to his back, though it was covered with cloth and not the standard sheath. It was also in a position where it could not be drawn, it was more like a trophy rather than a weapon to be used.

"No. Now it is a challenge." The figure lunged in deep, slamming his blade into the face of Titania's axe. It sliced a groove into the weapon, and the two women of the Greil Mercenaries instantly attacked him as one. Alondite coming from the side while Titania brought the axe of Greil chopping down. The figure barely evaded the axe blow that hoped to split is head open like an egg, and gripped Alondite by the tip, giving it a firm push to throw Mia off balance.

She recovered instantly and forced the stranger to backtrack with blow after furious blow. Titania attacked from the other side, attacking with the fury of a woman possessed. The stranger held his ground and planted his feet firmly into the wet slush. Coils of eldritch lightning engulfed him, running along the haft of his sword. He returned with a growl and swung again and again, striking the two warrior women with equal measure.

A lucky strike glanced along Titania's cheek, drawing a firm line of crimson. She was about to return with another brutal strike, when there was a banshee scream over the storm. It was so powerful that almost like a jolt of electricity passed through the three of them, forcing them to stop where they were mid sword stroke. An arrow flew through the air, and found its mark on the chest of Mia. Had she not worn her armor, the young lady would have perished.

Another arrow flew towards them, aimed for a kill on the dame but surprisingly the armored figure placed himself between the arrow and Mia. The arrow bounced off the armor harmlessly, the peacock feathered arrow falling into the ground with unnatural grace. Mia broke the arrow off, the arrow head buried in her armor. There would be time to deal with it later, and every instinct in her body told her to strike down her opponent now while his back was turned.

But that arrow was meant for her, if he had not intercepted it that may have lodged itself in her eye. Who else was out there seeking her death?

The figure turned to where the arrow had come, blue flames slowly grew in intensity. All around them, through the tempest, the light shone upon this new assortment of foes. Many were dressed in similar armor as the first intruder, but were less ornate and with viridian green eyes shining from their eyes in a slow and crude manner of movement. Like shells of normal men, seven of the creatures surrounded them, archaic weapons drawn into aggressive stances for the fight to come.

However, they all paled when a new one entered the fray. Mauve eyes burned in the raging storm, a similar curved sword forged from obsidian was clenched in her hands. A bow was slung over her shoulder, but that is scarcely what brought Mia's attention. The symbol that was drawn on her chest, splattered in blood. It looked so alien, yet so familiar. An emerald, sapphire and ruby bolt of lightning held in a clenched fist with a dragon eating its own tail. Covered head to toe in white with a monstrous horse made from shadows and steel. "Misguided one." The figure that radiated ghostly blue fire addressed the newcomer.

Mia and Titania, suddenly finding their second wind, began to mentally size up their new opponents. Each looked like formidable opponents, capable of overwhelming them. However, Mia was not going to go down easily, even though exhaustion devoured her inner spirit. She would hold her ground, to fight until she was beaten, to kill until killed. The white robed newcomer spoke. Her voice was impossibly powerful, and utterly foreign. " ** _Ha. Does the foolish autocrat suggests to guide me?_** "

The flames mixed with the lightning, growing as if it was a symbol of his temper. "In a manner of speaking."

The new figure laughed again, and the minions began to close their circle, edging closer to them. " ** _How humorous. It matters not, the shadow of our blades will be sure to overwhelm you and any others who stand against us._** "

" ** _Lightning_** **_cuts through the dark!_** " The blue figure yelled in a similar tone, a voice filled with the resonance of ages long gone and wounds just as old becoming fresh once again, before he leapt with his own sword, a scream of pain and anger like a weapon upon his lips. The newcomer raised her own blade and blocked the attack with great effort. Mia would like to watch, but she and Titania were suddenly beset by these new interlopers. One swung at her with a nasty looking glaive, she raised Alondite and bisected the weapon on the shaft when the attacker over reached. She pulled back and drove it through the shoulder, her blade passing cleanly through.

She almost recoiled when she felt no flesh or bone. She pulled the blade out, and just like the first stranger, the metal began to repair. Her horror soon turned to cold realization. She had fought similar opponents before, the Disciples of Order seemed to be ignorant of all but the most grievous of wounds. Only a lethal strike would end them, and such a problem like the one that presented itself to her needed the same solution.

She planted her back to Titania, who looked to her. Titania's eyes told her that she had come to the similar conclusion. Both wounded, they knew that it would be a remarkable struggle to fight, but they would rise to the challenge. Mia spun her sword around in a flurry before aiming for the head of her opponent. With a cry of anger and a rupturing of metal, she separated her otherworldly foe's head from his shoulders. The body phased out in a storm of fey lights.

Titania blocked the incoming attack of three opponents and countered with a mighty slash of her own, offsetting them, but they quickly responded so that they would turn the arc of her strike into a hammer blow. One thrusted forward with a knife, carving through the paladin's armor as if it was soft butter. She grunted in pain, yet continued to press on. She swung the axe for the former commander again, wrenching a hole in the armor of one soldier, and again, completely bisecting the first and knocking he second one down.

Mia rushed into assister her mother in spirit, Alondite sliced the air all around them. It was a furious defense against the attackers, devoid of any skill or grace, borne of desperation and frenzy. These creatures… they were the ones to fight Ilyana and what soon became the remains of her caravan. Murderous intent bled from their eyes, each strike of their blades was not to kill or disable, but to cause pain. These were not fighters or butchers, sadists to the last breathe of life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the first stranger fight with the only one she assumed to be the huntress. It was hard to focus on the battle, each one of them striking a furious blow with each heartbeat, too fast to fully comprehend. They fought with equal skill and experience, neither one of them able to gain the upper hand.

In that moment of distraction, Mia felt something solid collide with her lower jaw before a wet salty warm liquid flooded her mouth. Blood dribbled out, and she felt a few teeth in her mouth become remarkably loose. She swallowed her own life fluid, almost throwing up at the feeling but raised her sword to block the mace that came for the return attack. Titania brought her axe down, cleanly splitting the helmet open down to the neck armor. The figure began to disintegrate, but another took his place and pressed the attack.

Mia drove her sword through this new one, but the armored automaton gripped the haft of the weapon so that she could not withdraw it. Mia pulled hard, kicking almost to retract her weapon back into combat. Had this sword still be blessed, she might be able to do something about it.

" ** _Your choice, my lord_**." The creature on horseback announced in a mocking tone. " ** _Fight me, or let them live_**." For the briefest of moments, Mia looked to the white cloaked figure with green scale. The armor itself looked like it wanted to continue the fight against this beast, but the occupant inside it resisted. Something of duel nature it would seem.

She didn't need to worry long, because the blade was thrown into the skull helm of the one holding on to Alondite, hilt reached to the sky. Like a lightning rod, the stranger called down a continuous bolt of lightning, turning her opponent to a pool of slag before it seemingly left the world by magical means with nothing but the swords unharmed.

The figure ran over, scooped up the curved blade and adopted a defensive stance. Mia would have usually felt unsecured next to someone mere moments before had struck her. However, in the face of a common foe, she would be mature enough to set the matter aside until it was dealt with.

Then she would see to it that a fair fight with either one of these individuals in white.


	6. Revelations

Before their opponents struck out again, the three cornered fighters responded with a fury carried by desperation and hatred. Titania was the wounded individual, but with Mia protecting her with lightning fast parries, her defenses were shorn up. The cloaked newcomer held the other side, holding both of their flanks with bolts of electrical power and strikes from his curved blade.

Mia couldn't help but think that some parts of this stranger's techniques looked familiar to her. It looked like a hybridized school of swordsmanship she had trained with when Ike gave her Alondite. However, she was still wondering how someone could wield spells in heavy armor and without the aid of a book. Runes were carved into his armor, but they looked nothing more than the warding many knights would etch upon their armor. Yet they seemed to give him the power to continue his fight.

The opposing strangers continued to throw themselves at the three of them. Cruel weapons of archaic designs that bore only faint resemblance to the beorc counterparts. They fought with a slow, calculating malice. These were no madmen or insane soldiers. No, these were something far worse.

She twirled her blade and dug through the armor of one, changing her footing in the process to retch the armor. No blood or flesh followed, but the initial shock had long since worn off, her mind would recuperate from the wrongness later. Every fiber of her being was devoted to the fight. Study and recuperation would come afterwards with a tall flagon of ale to wipe the images from her mind.

The one she struck began to repair before she slammed the hilt of her sword down on the skull cap of the armor, collapsing the entire piece. A single swing of her sword sent the armored figure fizzling out in a flurry of multicolored sparks.

Titania drove the point at the front of her axe into another one, allowing Mia to unceremoniously remove the head from its torso. It too died in a similar manner, leaving nothing but the smell of the arcane and a blinding radiance. In that blindness, one drove his sword towards Mia, who saw it too late to do anything about it. She braced herself for the pain, but it never came as she saw a scarlet haired paladin throw herself in front of the weapon. The jagged sword burst through Titania's chest, a torrent of blood escaping her mouth. However, even with the wound Titania brought the axe head crashing down on the figure, destroying the final one and the sword with it.

The two mercenaries spun around to face the remainder of their foes, but the first one who Mia had initially insulted was in no danger. Holding the final three off with a blade and bolts of lightning, Mia wanted to rush in and finish the interlopers off so she could have her duel with this white robed individual. Titania collapsing into the cold water beneath them stopped her.

She grasped the armor of her mother and rolled her over. Titania's breathing was short and ragged, armor stained as crimson as her hair. Multiple wounds covered her body, broken open armor showed that the weapons treated forged steel as if it was nothing more than simple tin. Mia reached into her pouch and pulled forth several apothecary balms. She rubbed them in on the wounds, but the rain and sleet caused them to wash off, and blood continued to flow.

The armored figure dispatched two of his opponents with deep slashes, cleaving them into even pieces. The third he channeled lightning and flame into the empty shell of his opponent, casually destroying the individual with a show of force as the armor exploded from the pressure and heat, sending fragments flying in all directions.

He turned around to see Mia cradling the dying Titania, who suddenly convulsed and became still.

* * *

"She's dead."

"Goddess damn you." Ludveck swore as he looked at the regicide board. It was true, Caliban's knight was in position for the kill on his queen. He had moved three of his remaining five pawns closer to the back of the board in a hope to diverge his attention, but apparently Caliban was willing to sacrifice his pieces on a whim to get the prize he wanted. "You know, in real life that strategy should have worked."

"Well in real life we don't move on an eight by eight square grid following a specific set of rules. That would be just silly." With a cheeky grin on his face, Caliban gestured to the pieces. "And if I am correct, I have placed you in a checkmate position without any escape. So by all accounts, the king is dead as well."

"Beaten by a blind man at regicide, I will never hear the end of this." Ludveck knocked down his red quartz game piece that was carved into the shape of a prestigious ruler to Caliban's mounted white marble knight. "I once again doubt that you cannot see from those eyes. This is all a giant joke that I am not in."

"I wish it was, but there are other ways to see. Also, play as many games as I have and you can remember the layout of the board with the positions being announced." Caliban chuckled and reached back into the fire, pulling a long twig that had a flame at the end of it to his packed pipe. He placed the flaming strip down on the compounded herbs. The blind man took in a long draw from his churchwarden pipe and passed on the stick to Ludveck, who did the same to his own briar pipe he made himself back on Shade's Atoll.

Outside the storm raged with intensity some could rightly speculate the flood of ancient myth had come back once again. Caliban pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders and tossed the stick back into the fire as Ludveck rearranged the game board. "Not fit for a man nor a beast out there. Hopefully he found whatever he was looking for."

"Agreed. Not too thrilled about traveling to the Begnion bogs by ourselves, either. Nasty critters even in early spring, with biting flies the size of an infant's fist. Whoever we are meeting down there had best be worth this errand." Ludveck said as he sucked in a lungful of the bourbon and vanilla infused tobacco. "I remember him saying that you would be familiar with who we will meet. Any chance you could enlighten me on who it will be?"

Caliban blew out the smoke through his nose as his brow narrowed in thought. "It's been quite a long time since I been to the southern empire, and even longer still since I talked to people I know from there. Most of them are probably dead now, and no one really misses them."

"Quite the cryptic message. Died in the Mad King's War I assume, or perhaps the little uprising against the Empress?" Ludveck asked as he reclined against the cave wall as thunder rumbled in the distance.

"I doubt you wouldn't know, few do. You are not the only one with a few skeletons in the closet, Lord of Felirae." Caliban addressed him in a mockery of formality. Ludveck narrowed his own eyes, but returned to his smoke rather than being baited. "Still, a much better country to visit than the norther neighboring empire. I love the Daien ice capped mountains and rolling hills, political stability is not their finer selling point. A ruler changed every seventeen years, not very stable if the monarchy's lifespan is about seventeen years after they ascend to the throne."

"Crimean's monarchs live similar lifespans depending on when they take the throne." Ludveck responded to unusual tangent the conversation took.

"True, but there is a clear line of ascension, even when there is no heir. Furthermore, it is not governed by a single individual or family as there is a committee of various duchies. Hardly ideal when the noble born are obstructing a young newcomer at every turn, and you happen to be the sole voice speaking in support…" Caliban drifted off, his dead optics seemingly focusing on something in the distance while he mulled over something in the deep recesses of his mind.

It lasted less than a moment, and then he was training the pure opal orbs on Ludveck. "If you would allow me permission, I have a question for you."

"When did you ever need permission to ask me anything?" Ludveck responded and used a small strip of iron to pack down his caramelized tobacco. "Go on."

"Looking back on it all, is there anything that you would have done differently?" Beyond the snark and deadpan/gallows humor, Caliban had a terrible way of not asking the question he wanted. Always beating around the bush to sound polite. The first two things Ludveck could stand, the third is what wore down his patience with the sightless swordsman.

"I believe you are referring to my rebellion rather than my whole life?" Caliban was taken aback for a second, but he nodded shortly after. "I'll be honest, not a day goes by when the question is presented to me in the form of 'what if'. What if Geoffrey had been a few hours late? What if I had gathered more troops to my banner? What if Elincia had been off her mount when we fought? What if? What if?"

The only sounds being made for what seemed like an eternity was the crackling of the fire and the roar of the wind. Finally, Ludveck responded. "The things I _could change_ would make no difference and the things I would _want changed_ were beyond my power. I couldn't determine how fast Geoffrey would travel to save his queen, I could only determine how to split my forces. I couldn't have gathered too many more troops because things would have been noticed and some mercenaries would not do something as foolish as attacking a nation with a rouge lord. I could have ordered more scorpion siege infantry to my gambit, but without them Felirae would have fallen without as much as a struggle. It is borderline delusional to dwell on what can't be changed."

"Perhaps, but still, one has to gaze into the infinite spheres of possibility and try to decipher how much could have changed on a whim. Our world could have been slightly or vastly different if a single event changed in the minutest detail. To the rational mind, it might seem asinine but consider all that we have seen. A single course of events built up to that which in turn branched off to many more." Caliban gestured through the thick tobacco smoke surrounding them all.

"Perhaps it is a way to spend time musing on the things that might have been. But if that is all what one ever thinks about then they are assured to go mad." Ludveck mentioned and took another drag from his long pipe. "Now then, shall we play another game?"

"Got little better to do, you can go first this time. Try to put up a valiant last stand this time, it seems like you want to spare your pawns from living under my rule." Caliban's dead eyes looked down to the board game and over to his opposing army.

With a crack of his fingers, Ludveck looked to the board. "We will see, now that I know your mindset I might be able to beat you." Ludveck reached to grab his center-left pawn and another game of regicide began.

* * *

Mia wailed with the wind, the still body of Titania held in her arms. Anger, rage and grief wracked her body in equal measures. She wanted to, nay needed to stand up and strike something, but she held the body of her guardian close to her. The armored figure sheathed his sword and reached into his own pouch attached near his belt.

Mia saw him extract a vial of shattered crystals that radiated with power amethyst in color. He unscrewed the vial and poured a few of the glowing rocks into his hand. That strange tongue came from his mouth and the rocks began to float on their own accord. They slowly made their way to the pair of women, and they only stopped when they were above Titania. Powder fell from those gem shards, containing the same energy on the grievous wounds.

Astonishingly, to Mia's eyes the wounds began to patch themselves together. No scars or any evidence that the wounds had even occurred besides the sundered armor. Titania shivered in her grasp, though the eyes remained close. "Wh… what did you do?"

"I am a speaker for the dead." The voice spoke with a human-like voice once again. "I have seen what lies beyond the veil and can see that gaze in all living creatures that foretell the journey to the ever-shifting steppes. Your mother-in spirit was not dead, nor was she on the world between ours and the afterlife." The crystals came back into the palm of his gauntleted hand, and he slid them back into the bottle. "She will be weak in the morning, but it is nothing light rest and hospitality cannot solve."

"It is all your fault…" Mia muttered as she still held Titania close to her body with one hand, the other wrapped firmly around the hilt of Alondite.

The figure took a step forward with a humorous laugh on his lips. "Really Mia? Who was the one who threw insults? Who was the one looking for a fight? The intervention of the Huntress was chance, though your actions weakened both you and Titania."

Mia was silent. He was right, she had rushed headlong into the fight without care for anything except for the unbridled enthusiasm that she might have been fighting her white robed rival. "Then I owe this Huntress a debt."

"That I can help you with." The figure spoke as Mia hefted Titania up over one shoulder by holding on to the right arm of Titania. "She is a threat to Tellius and must be killed. This and the caravan? It is nothing to what she is truly capable of. Cities will be reduced to ash, little ones will be dashed upon the stones, and not even the light of the goddess will be able to escape."

"Why should I trust you? You and her… are the same!" Mia shouted at the figure, who just stood there, betraying no emotion.

"In the same way you and the Mad King Ahsnard are the same. Racially we are the same but our goals could not be any more different. I am giving you the chance to stop her, if you do not heed it then three thousand more will have their blood spilt and on your hands." The figure spoke, and folded his arms. "Daughter of Altina, I trust no one else but you with this. Take Alondite, a few allies and what you need and head to the southeast. The city of Dunkirk will be the next to fall, though a few more shires will fall on the bloody trail leading to it. Stop her before and avert this disaster before it wracks the nation."

The figure turned to leave, raising his hand to the sky. "Wait!" Mia yelled over the dying storm. "Before I know, I must ask your name and how do you know who I am."

The figure lowered his arm and looked into Mia's eyes with ultramarine fire. "When I surrendered my form, I gave up my name. One day, when I am whole and we meet again perhaps I can tell you it. As for how I know you, your name travels far. Though I see Her face on yours, and in your vein runs the blood of a great heroine. Your deeds are widespread, but they will soon multiply tenfold when you know who you truly are. Your legacy runs deeper than you think, abandoned one. All you have to do is wait."

With final thunderclap of the storm, the figure vanished into thin air upon the heaven sent bolt. Mia stood there as her face was pelted with the last few drops of rain. She then numbly walked back to the retreat, her mind awashed with new information and speculation and the various new titles she was given to the plethora that she already had.


	7. Readying

Mia slumped down next to the embers in the fire place while Ilyana fed fresh logs to the fire as Rhys looked over the injured Titania, adjusting the dry robe that covered her shaking frame. Her armor was removed and next to the fire to dry, a cup of strong herbal tea in her hands to drive away the cold she would almost assuredly be getting from the early morning fight. Even in her wounded state, Titania's motherly instincts would not leave her.

"Why is it whenever I ask for peace and relaxation, you take the opposite and run with it? I ask for bed rest, you leave in the worst storm in recent memories to fight someone. Do you want me to get angry?" Rhys asked as he threw a blanket over Titania, mumbling in her sleep all the while as the red headed healer finished his work. "It is like you want me to go insane."

"At least we found something to keep you occupied Rhys. You might have to crochet your own straight jacket if we didn't." Mia responded as she sipped her tea, while Ilyana finished stroking the fire back to life. Rhys murmured something under his breath as he warmed his hands in the fire as the crack of dawn broke over the horizon. "At least I learned something about… what you saw Ilyana."

"Really? What…what were they?" She sounded much better then when she first spoke, rested in the care of Rhys.

Mia couldn't figure out the words herself, what were they indeed? They were something less then human or laguz, but at the same time something so much greater. Something capable of great malevolence, carried out by great violence but also equal mercy. What were they? "I… I cannot describe them in a way that would do them justice."

Ilyana looked absently into the fire, nibbling on a thick slice of turnip bread, if she was at all concerned with what Mia said she did not show it. "I see. Eldritch horrors… of the night. Given a form only our minds can comprehend… while even that is an illusion?"

"I don't think so." Mia responded with another drink from her teacup, enjoying the flavor but still wishing for an ale instead to numb the pain and cold. "These weren't daemons of our imagination that exist in our night terrors, even those that seemingly were bounded by magic were real things."

Rhys returned with another salve for Titania, who had become more responsive though the weakness was still evident in her. Rhys uncorked the bitter potion and poured a cup full into Titania's tea to mask the taste. "Still, whatever it was that you two fought last night seems to have the intent of destroying you. Now they are gone and let us hope it stays that way."

Rhys had been unusually on edge ever since Ilyana came in bloodied and wounded, and that forced Mia to wonder if the normally collected albeit shy healer was beginning to lose his calm demeanor. Granted a sudden outburst of violence in a golden age of peace was unsettle anyone, but not to this degree. "You seem tense, and usually you seem one who isn't afraid to go after malicious individuals even if they are locked in a fort." Mia looked at him through the corner of her eye.

"Well… yes but that was different." Rhys responded as he washed his hands in steaming water, removing the last few stains of blood he had on his hands. He sighed in a defeated tone when both Titania and Ilyana gave him the look that all men knew as a sign to fess up before words and other instruments would be thrown at him. "I worry about you, that is all. These things are nothing we have ever fought before, and they could be a rare anomaly that passed through the ley lines in our world from theirs that would be gone in nothing more than a few days' time."

"Taking many innocent lives in the process." Titania reminded him, viably disgusted with whatever concoction Rhys placed in her tea. "Rhys, I am not ecstatic about going on a skirmish in the middle of a golden age of peace. If I was, you should be concerned about me but if they are out there, we should find them and stop them."

"I know where they will head next." Mia spoke as she finished her cup of tea. The other three looked to her as she placed the cup aside. Mia couldn't tell them that the stranger told her where the Huntress would go. "When you lost consciousness, I heard the others speak about the city of Dunkirk, as if that would be the next place to go."

"Dunkirk is days away from here. Not even the pegasus knights could make that journey overnight." Titania responded. "But if they are heading there, I doubt they would be prepared for the monsters." She made to rise but Rhys held her down with both arms. "Do not think you can keep me in this bed all day."

"As tempting of an offer that would be, Miss Titania, you are in no condition to travel yet alone fight." Rhys responded, before a scarlet blush rushed over his face at the comment that escaped his lips without any thought. "You must rest and get better."

"Then… come with us." Ilyana spoke meekly. "She will need you… as will we if we face those things again. Four will be better than three."

"I think this is an argument I can't win." Rhys admitted in a tone that coincided with something akin to defeat, but there was a small smile on his face that showed he was relieved that he would be there to make sure no one got too hurt. "Let me go collect my ointments and healing wards."

Titania rose from her bed, shakenly at first before Rhys rushed in to catch her as she seemed to fall. That blush that had escaped Rhys face earlier returned with greater intensity. As the two scarlet haired mercenaries went down the hallway, Ilyana and Mia looked into the fire. "Dunkirk." Ilyana muttered under her breath, causing Mia to look at her. "That was where… my first caravan found me."

"Probably a coincidence, Ily. If anything the only people who are mad enough to kill you would be the local larders of those caravans when you would eat out their supplies." Ilyana threw a small disk of wood at Mia, who ducked it easily enough. "It will be good to have you along though, I can't think of any other mage I would want with us."

"Except Soren… or Bastion." Ilyana mentioned the other two powerful sages they fight with time and again.

"One is colder than the winter breeze and the other has his head big enough, literally. If Bastian receives any more praise they might have to make doors to accommodate for him." Ilyana chuckled with her sister in battle. "You are an accomplished mage who singlehandedly defeated an apostle of order, few can say they even dealt a death blow."

"Well… a fat oaf insulting my slight frame gave me some incentive to seeing him being fried alive." Ilyana responded meekly, and she looked back into the fire.

She was still thinking about the caravan. Even though she had been to many in her short life, a part of them always remained with her. Mia moved some of her blanket over Ilyana's frame, who curled into it tightly. To take her mind off of it, Mia began to hum a few notes. Notes that were familiar to her and always calmed the young lady down. The Ballad of Altnia, at least the parts Mia had committed to memory.

 _When the world was young, and mountains green_

 _When there was no threat of tyranny_

 _No books had babbled, no canyon yet whistled_

 _And mystery surrounded all the land_

 _No ink on parchment or chisel on stone_

 _When Altnia awoke and walked alone_

 _She named the many peeks and fells_

 _She swam in yet uncharted pools_

 _She gazed upon the evening borealis_

 _And saw a crown of ethereal diamonds_

 _They fell upon their silver thread_

 _Above the shadows of her head_

 _Now the world is aged and mountains greyed_

 _The hearth's fire is ash and cold_

 _No songs are sung and no hammers falls_

 _The darkness lies in Altnia's halls_

 _The shadow remains over her home_

 _Sienne, the resting place for our heroine._

* * *

"It looks like another storm is coming." Ludveck motioned to Caliban as their mounts continued down the bogged pathway. It was true, when spring came to Tellius, it was usually one tempest after the next for a few long weeks as the opposing elements collided as the seasons changed. "Gauging the pattern and colors of the clouds, we have maybe four hours before we are hit with the rain."

"We will not be able to persevere through the storms, especially as we move from the forests to the prairies before we descend into the swamps." Caliban responded as he adjusted the pipe in his mouth, a steady stream of smoke exiting his mouth. "And you wearing full battle armor under that cloak, fall down in a storm it will be murder to pull you out of the muck. Speaking of which, is that the best idea to begin with? We aren't fighting a battle and I doubt the bandits would harass us in this part of Crimea, there is nothing but rolling grass lands for miles, nowhere to hide for long."

"Force of habit I suppose. When I came back to my castle, for years I could not feel truly at peace unless I felt the weight of the armor on my shoulders or at the very least a sword strapped to my side. After seeing that plantation, it must have reawakened those old habits. I have felt slightly more at ease having it and a weapon on hand. A moment of laxity could spell the death for both of us." Ludveck looked forward and saw the trees getting thinner and thinner from each other. In the far distance, looming mountains stood in front of prairies of dead grass and mud with patches of hardy foliage standing despite the fury of the elements.

Caliban picked up the pace of his hazelnut mount to catch up with his traveling companion, riding side by side. Ludveck continued his thought. "We are heading towards the city of Dunkirk or at the very least in that direction, and it holds some significance to my family. It was where my five times great grandmother aligned herself with Caradock at the inception of Crimea at the Declaration of Dunkirk. Still a considerable ways away from my home duchy, but it has a sense of homecoming to it."

"Aye, I can see why. The foundation of Crimea away from the Begnion Empire by Senator Caradock here." Caliban offered his pipe to Ludveck who took a few puffs from the offered implement. The faint taste of chocolate and cherry washed over his tongue as he gave the pipe back to the blind swordsman. "How our first king saw Amiti laid upon an obsidian block carved with the language of our ancestors proclaiming him to be the rightful king and he built Castle Melior around that block as the cornerstone of his new kingdom. Or so the story my nanny told me many years ago."

Ludveck chuckled at the amusing gestures the blind man did as the pipe smoke seemed to move with him. "Indeed. When I first heard that I thought it was an allegorical story, but everyone seems to accept it as truth. Though if there is a strategic reason for slaughtering this city, I am not seeing it. Dunkirk is significant, it feeds the spiritual and patriotic appetite of Crimea with a few statues as well as buildings, but it doesn't help win wars."

"Striking fear into the heart of the country perhaps? If a fortified city isn't safe, what will a farm be considered? Some think that they might as well strip themselves nude, yell to get attention and lay down on a large plate." Caliban offered the explination with a shrug. "Perhaps it is spilling blood solely for the sake that blood must flow. Feeding some animistic urge of primal hate."

"Terror and insanity from something clouded in the smoke of a bygone era. Never should have left the island." Another ruble of thunder off in the distance, faint but still audible, caught the wayward son of Crimea's attention. "I hope we can find a hunting cabin somewhere to stay out of the elements. I am not too keen of sleeping on hard rock once again."

"Neither would I." Caliban responded with another puff out of his pipe. "I doubt we could stay in a tavern without someone recognizing your looks, nor would they take too keenly to having a blind man stumble in the way of every attractive lady that comes in."

"Never pegged you for the skirt chaser." Ludveck responded as the wind shifted, and the smell of rain assaulted his nostrils. "But I agree with you. Most of my underground contacts exist in the northern part of the kingdom, so I don't have a safe house or out of the way hunting cabin we could stay at."

"More of a 'plate and mail' chaser, I prefer women who can handle themselves in the face of danger rather than running away from it. Getting back on the original topic, I know an old crone who lives out here who wouldn't mind having company." Caliban responded.

"Crone?"

"Unless she aged a century and a half since I met her, I don't think the term everyone calls her is appropriate. She is up there in the years but she isn't carrion that doesn't know it is dead yet. Maybe it is another insult at her profession as a fortune teller. She is wise and kind, even showed me how to hold a sword properly and use it for the first time when I was very young. She must have been quite the fighter in her early years." Caliban explained as their horses became a little uneasy with the roll of thunder off in the distance. "Easy old girl, we will find shelter before it hits us."

"You know her well then?"

"Grew up and lived in the area of Dunkirk for the most part of my life. Agatha isn't one to turn away strangers in the middle of a storm. You can't smoke in her house and may have to sit through one of her predictions, but a roof and a fire makes up for it." Caliban mentioned as he picked up the pace, with Ludveck not far behind looking forward to the promised hospitality.

* * *

Mia tied off the last buckle to her saddle containing dried food on Thunderhead. Ilyana finished brushing down the mare as Titania and Rhys mounted their own horses with provisions and other equipment needed for the two day's hard ride to Dunkirk. Alondite was sharpened and in its sheath, Ilyana held her books close as Mia hefted her up into the saddle of Thunderhead. Titania looked like a newly minted officer with fresh repairs on her armor as she mounted Evensong, while Rhys took his seat on his stubborn horse properly named Boyd.

"The weather looks foreboding, we should be swift and careful unless we want to be bested by a storm." Titania said as she surveyed the skies to the south. "Ride well and ride swiftly."

Mia huffed as she pulled herself up to thunder head and proceeded to give a slight kick to move the mount forward. She felt Ilyana wrap her arms around her waist to hold on. "May the winds be at our back." With that they headed off into the direction of the storm, the thunder rolled in anticipation for what was to come.


	8. Runes and Ruins

The rain whipped around the riders, and even with Ilyana's spells providing a buffer against the elements, the companions were soaked in the cold rain. For hours they rode on at a canter, slowing down only for the horses to recover their energy before picking up the pace again. Mia held on to her reigns tightly, taking the lead ahead of Titania and Rhys.

Mia felt the cold gnaw at her bones, but it kept her awake, it made her feel alive to persevere through this storm and make it to Dunkirk. She didn't completely trust that stranger who had beaten her handedly, in fact for all she knew Dunkirk was already ablaze and the slaughter had begun. It was disheartening to think about it, but she needed to focus on the now. The living will avenge the dead in the fullness of time.

"How much further?" Ilyana whispered into Mia's ear. She glanced over at the mage and was thankful she was not under the stress Ilyana was. Reciting a spell while in motion was a strenuous task, Ilyana's face was pinched and white as blood left her face in exhaustion. She had a small nosebleed and the eyelids drooped. Mia had never seen Ilyana in such a state, even after fighting a massive battle at the end of the Mad King's war on a half full stomach.

"We are making good time, we should reach Dunkirk by the late afternoon hours tomorrow if my internal clock has not been changed since my fight. At least I think we should be. We are supposed to be near a plantation on the Begnion border by now." Mia looked around. Even with the rain, the scene was familiar and every fiber in her body told her that they should be at that very plantation now. The bend in the road, the way the trees were trimmed to provide constant shade in the summer time… she should be at that place.

She looked around, and realized they were at the plantation or what was left of it. "Goddess…" Rhys and Titania stopped behind them, with Rhys taking in a deep breath of air to ask what was keeping them when he saw what was stopping them.

It was a pile. A pile of charred skulls and bones.

All around them, it looked as if there had been a massive battle fought by the legions of hell itself. Trees were lined with strike marks and ropes that were sliced down the middle. The ground was a dark and sickly crimson color, with the remains of arrows and chattered farming tools littering the ground around them.

All of the lodges that Mia remembered as being either boarding for the workers or barns to store the crops, they looked more like charred and gutted skeletons of what they once were. Remains and reminders of what they once were, now only a testament to the depths of moral depravity.

Mia got off her mount and walked towards the pile, with the sound of Ilyana becoming physically sickened at the sight. This was where the barn was supposed to be, blackened support beams still radiated heat even through the rain while the rest of the world around them was colder than the grave. Titania walked next to Mia, the warrioress who saw dozens of battlefields where cruelty unbound was made manifest looked as if she was barely composing herself.

Mia knelt in the ashen mud, looking into the empty sockets of those that once held bright and cheerful eyes. She felt despair and sorrow wrack her body in equal measure. This bore the similarity to the caravan, though it appeared that someone else gave these dead something resembling a proper funeral to the slaughtered.

In the ashes of the dead and she could not help but feel as if she was somehow responsible for them. She faced that bitch in close combat, and if she had been at her best condition she could have, nay _would have_ bested her foe. This might not have happened at all, or it would prevent whatever was happening or would happen at Dunkirk.

Then something changed inside of her. The hot and painful grief began to slowly die away as something cold entered her. It started in her heart, smoldering like an impossibly cold fire and it slowly began to creep across her. Disgust melted away, wrath replaced it.

Fear was traded for hate.

Every fiber of her being wanted to strike out at someone, something, just to make that blood haze in her mind dissipate into nothingness. To swing at something until the noises stopped. Looking over the slain, she never had felt this much anger to anyone before. Not Ashnard, not Michiah, not even Ashera. She wanted them destroyed of course, but never before had she felt the urge to twist Alondite in the body of her foe and savor the sound of pain and death that escaped from their lips.

Her blood was pumping hard, the feeling of adrenalin ate into her, and she almost reacted violently when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She saw Rhys with a genuine look of concern on his face, and she followed his eyes down to where they were.

In her anger she had drawn free the simple stiletto she kept on her belt as a last resort measure if she ever lost her primary sword. She shakily placed the weapon back into its sheath, and took a few breaths of the cold wet air. They had to continue to move forward, but they still had to pay their respects to the dead.

Mia turned to the pile and began to murmur some blessing onto the slain, nothing formal but the due must be given weather she was a follower of the cloth or not.

* * *

"Caliban, take your feet off my tea table and stop slouching." Agatha's voice chided the blind young man, who grumbled acknowledgement with a 'yes mother' comment as he straightened up. Ludveck felt a chuckle escape his lips as he looked at his compatriot's discomfort. "If that is the term you wish to address me by, I have a list of chores to do but we have company."

True to his word, Caliban's defense of lady Agatha was not unfound. She looked very youthful despite her assumed age placed her among Crimea's most venerable citizens. Extremely long silver hair fell to her feet in braids, and despite her assuredly gout ridden joints judging by the way she rubbed her hands frequently she stood unaided without the constant need for her staff. "Thank you again for your hospitality, Lady Agatha." Ludveck said as he raised his cup of tea to his lips.

"Not a problem, Duke." The word caught him off guard, and Ludveck had to clamp one of his hands on the arm of his chair to prevent himself from spitting the hot tea back into his cup. Before he could further make an ass of himself, Agatha waved one of her hands as she drank her own cup. "It matters not to me what your past is. When you live as long as I have, dwelling on the past gets you nothing but wasted present time. You came here seeking shelter from the storm, though armed and armored you did not force your way in, rather you asked politely. I return humility with kindness."

Ludveck was momentarily speechless, having just been disarmed by someone old enough to be his grandmother. Fortunately, Caliban jumped in the conversation. "Please. He knows if he did that I would object violently."

"Your concern is appreciated, little Cali' but I can take care of myself. He wouldn't be the first arrogant noble I have dealt with in my life time and goddess knows he would not have been the last." Agatha responded. "Though I am surprised you remembered my hospitality."

"My mind is still as sharp though my sight isn't much, Frau Agatha. Some of my fondest memories is learning sword play, potion making, and piano from you when my parents were conducting the affairs of Crimea. You were a skilled teacher." Caliban responded, seeming the most at peace Ludveck had seen him in quite some time. All of the in built stress them man seemed to carry on his back was as if it was left at the door when he entered this ancient cabin.

Everything around them was old, and while the two old friends talked, Ludveck drank in his surroundings. The word that build this two room cabin was impossibly old, almost white in color from the passage of time. It still had a dark green tone to it, like flesh from the trees of the Serenes Forest, having only seen a splinter when his father showed him all that seemed to remain of the beauty that seemed to forever be lost.

His gaze moved over to the mantle of the fire place and saw the trinkets that the lady had kept over her many years. He saw a picture of a darker haired Agatha, he assumed as much, standing with another image who was faded from the paint. Worn away from touching it too much perhaps? There also was a large black feather next to the painting with a gold chain around it. It looked like a primary flight feather for a great bird, though it was too soft to be that of a raven laguz.

What really caught his attention, next to the bangles and other knickknacks, was the sketch of someone who he swore looked familiar though he could not bring himself to recall where he had seen it. Large eyes and long hair with a curved blade in hand… he swore he knew that image.

"…what do you say Ludveck?" Caliban brought him out of his thoughts and with a throated hrm sound, Caliban repeated himself. "Would you like to have Frau Agatha read your fortune while I clean up these dishes?"

"I don't put much stock in the thought of predestination." He explained as he placed his empty cup on the tray Caliban carried as he headed to a pot of hot water with lye soap. "People only believe in fate if it benefits them or as a way to escape the responsibility of their actions. Either you believe that man has control over his free will or it is controlled by some transcendental law."

"Like the hand of the goddess is hovering above you as if she views you as a play thing or not?" Agatha responded as she began to pour a healthy amount of salt in a circle in the ground between the two of them. "There are an infinite number of choices in the universe, each one leading to more consequences, good or ill. The results of our actions areunavoidable, but it is how we meet them that gives us free choice."

Ludveck nodded. Indeed, in his case aggression to the crown was met with retaliation. It was unavoidable, but how he chose to meet that certainty determined the end result. Fate, destiny, fortune… "Alright, indulge me in my possible future."

Agatha reached into a leather bag and pulled out a fist full of runes carved from bones of animals. He saw the old woman began to murmur in a soft tone before she casted the runes into the circle that was formed by the salt. They all fell within the circle, not one even touching each other or molesting the edge. Agatha let out a long hum, looking over the symbols as if they would spell any sense to her. It clearly was lost on him what they meant.

"Ah. The path ahead of you is long, trying and with break you many times. Sacrifice will be expected of you, and the time will come to make the greatest of all. You will not be alone, soon you will meet an old enemy who will aid you." She stopped when she reached the last few runes, her breath caught in her throat. She continued but Ludveck saw the moment of doubt in her eyes. "The rest is yet to be seen. But it asks a gift from me to you."

She rose with an unexpected vigor and walked over to a small chest. She opened it and pulled out a heavy looking leather pouch. She returned to Ludveck and gave him the sack. He almost dropped it from the weight, many things were held in it so it was not just a single item. "Lady Agatha, I cannot-"

"No, please. You will need it soon." Ludveck still wanted to hand it back, and Agatha smiled. "Well, if it will make you feel any less guilty, I need to run some errands at Dunkirk's Market District tomorrow. I could use a few strong arms."

Ludveck felt his brows knit, he and Caliban needed to make all haste to the Begnion bogs at all pace. But this kind woman gave them shelter and a gift… he supposed his orders left some wiggle room to help. "Alright. As long as Caliban agrees to it we will accompany you to market tomorrow."

"Not a problem here. Now, make yourself useful and help me clean these windows." Caliban shouted to Ludveck, who rose with a friendly sigh to help his blind friend stop from wiping the grime all over the panes.

Still, what were those last few runes? Sparing Agatha a final glance, he could see an expression of fear, anxiety, and sadness.

* * *

Mia finished murmuring her own silent prayer for the souls who were killed and given some semblance of a proper burial. Rhys finished his own incantation, even amongst the storm the dues to the dead must be held in solemn reverence. She turned back to her horse and pulled herself up, Ilyana munching on a piece of dried beef to regain her strength to continue casting the spell. "This slaughter… I saw the caravan when I looked for this band of murderers. No to down play their deaths but this pales in comparison."

"I… I see. I remember Astird saying something… after the battle that petrified our armies. 'This is when you take all of your anger, all of your frustration… bottle it up and then use it to rearrange every inch of your foe's body'."

Mia chuckled without any humor. "A wise and true saying. If… no, _when_ I see this huntress again, I am going to take a dull knife and carve the names of the dead into her skull. If she survives that, I will reward her with a swift decapitation." The words were so cold it almost froze the rain around them, taking even Mia herself off guard. "We need to continue. We can rest once we have reached Dunkirk."

She kicked the sides of her horse and feeling the urgency of its master, Thunderhead raced off. Mia didn't even look back to see if the others were keeping pace, she needed to ride to take her mind off of what she saw.

Titania caught up with her, a look of concern pieced across her face. "I am as discusted as you are at what has happened, but you shouldn't be blaming yourself over it."

Mia turned angrily, her usual chipper demeanor hiding behind one she never wore before. "And who says I am blaming myself?! I have to stop this, not only because my fated rival is behind it all, but that I have to stand up and defend those who cannot defend themselves!"

"By charging recklessly into battle against an enemy you know next to nothing on? Doing all this on a forlorn prophesy by some crone years ago? You have a finite amount of luck in this life, Mia. I don't want you to use it to lead to your death!" Titania shot back with the voice of a mother chastising her child.

"Agatha the mystic had never been wrong before and I see no reason why she is wrong now! Even if I didn't have such a fate to drive me, I would not just abandon these people to the wolves. I am going to Dunkirk and that is the last of it. If you don't wish to come, feel free to turn around and head back." Mia turned away from her mother in the spirit and continued her ride, tears of frustration mixing with the icy rain that fell down her face.

She turned her anger and frustration inward, providing the fuel she needed to face this mistress of murder.


	9. Reminiscing

**Well after an extended vacation to enjoy the closing few days of summer break, I managed to type out another chapter on those eight hour car rides. Hope it was worth it. Story is reaching the end and I have a few more short stories and oneshots planned for when this is finished before I turn my full attention to the main story. Enjoy!**

* * *

The day came, and Mia had felt the rage that kept her awake through the night slowly ebb away into the cold morning dew. The storm clouds had passed them soon after they left the plantation, feeling more like a bad memory or a dream born of wild terror than a reality. But there would be more storms to come in the following days.

There would always be more horrors awaiting them.

The mountains that served as an informal divider between Begnion and Crimea were shown in sharp relief, and below them the great plains rolled on showing smoke rising from the small farming hamlets that fed the nations and offered refuge from real world. And in the distance, almost blending in with the grey stone of a mountain sat a large fortified city. It stood unbroken and tall, as if daring fate to try and take it.

It was that same unassailable fortress that Mia needed to be. She wanted to go there this instant and wait for the huntress.

But she was exhausted, and Thunderhead was almost ready to fall asleep where she stood. Ilyana was dead to the world, and her other companions of Rhys and Titania fared no better with their state. Mia knew that she needed to rest, or she might as well fight in her sleep. She would prove no significant challenge to her destined opponent.

Under a silver maple tree, she stopped her horse. Numbly, she dismounted and helped a groggy Ilyana out of the saddle. Her other companions were behind them and Mia unbuckled some tinder dry logs that were placed in one of the side of her horse. She placed the logs in a square formation and Ilyana mustered her remaining strength to channel the energy in her weakened limbs to shoot bolts of lightning to ignite the dry logs.

Within seconds, flames lick the wood and warmth enters their bodies. Mia slumped to the ground, her back planted against the tree to support her aching limbs. The others are near the fire, Rhys adding some long sticks to the fire from his saddle. Their beasts of burden taking the time to rest with their masters. Even the animals seemed to feel the purpose of their mission, and ate the sparse grass that grew from the muddied ground to get some strength back.

The others spoke no words, each one with minds drifting to the blissful blackness of exhaustion driven sleep or rest in silence watching the ever changing flames of the fire. Everyone, that is except for Mia.

Her mind was racing with uncomfortable thoughts, dark thoughts that would offer a total contrast to her usual bright demeanor. Thoughts of anger, vengeance, and a chance to repay the slaughter that she had seen inflicted in these past few days. She brought her knees up to her chest and placed her head on them. Pain shot through her mind as she felt the responsibility fate placed upon her.

Fate, she let loose a small laugh at the irony of fate. She had always belived that it was her fate to face this enemy dressed it white, but was it truly fate or destiny to slaughter so many for her to satisfy this wishful vanity of perfecting herself. Mia always wanted to be one of the best swordmaidens Tellius had always seen, but she was did not want that built on the corpses of children. If that was the case, she might not have learned to pick up a sword in the first place.

But by that same coin, if she did not learn how to use a sword she would not have survived her years of drifting in the country lands of Crimea. She lived from family to family after being abandoned, and often she survived in the wilderness fending off bandits that had carnal pleasures in mind for her.

She lost her innocence when she took her first life, and bad things happened to good people. In truth, all would die one day but it was the value of the way they sold their lives that would give them a meaning. If death ceased to be, pain would lose its relevance. Life would have no treasure to it and the good times would not be worth remembering if there was no sorrow to temper the joy. If innocents had to die so that Mia could prevent more slaughter to make sure deaths were not in vain, then she could live comfortably with that.

It offered a peaceful blanket to cover her mind as she drifted out into the infinite shores of dreams, her body and mind finally at rest.

* * *

The sun was moving past its apex, and Ludveck handed the merchant a few gold coins to pay for the kohl produce grown in the cellars over the long winters. Behind him Agatha and Caliban were inspecting silver trinkets that were celebrating a new spring and the New Year. The year of the lion, any child born of this year would be held in an auspicious significance, and many charms in the semblance of great lions were to be had.

Ludveck placed the cabbage in the straw bag and moved over to the others. For the whole day, since they entered the great city of Dunkirk, it had been touring the marketing district buy food, spices, and herbs for potions Agatha would make. Now, their arms were full of the various products they have bought from the day, and they needed to rest. Fortunately, the market was near the main attraction of the city where they could rest before they had to go their separate ways.

Dunkirk was a city built on and made of legends. Men and women of renown that had forged the nation or kept it from falling into civil war during the most trying of times. Crimea commemorated these legends not with the paintings of Daein or the embroidery work on large bolts of silk from the southern empire, rather they carved mighty statues and placed them before all to see in the Garden of Remembrance.

With Agatha leading the way, her two companions saw the first of the many tiers of statues that formed in a chicle parted by occasional slumbering cherry trees that would bloom in the height of summer and shower these legends with their beauty. Many of the statues were of the ruling nobles, each having a claim to fame by name or deed. The founding fathers and mothers were in the center, surrounding the mighty Caradock, with exaggerated features displaying him as the wise benevolent father of his nation.

Then each generation of nobles after the founding moved out, slowly growing larger and larger as succession became much more rapid due to the many wars Crimea fought to attain true independence from Begnion and occasional bouts of assassinations between feuding siblings. Those who partook in such dark deeds were still remembered, but their form was covered with a thick black cloth with only their names, title, and fall from grace displayed.

Closest to them as they sat down on a polished granite bench, was Ludveck's own pedestal.

The black cloth fluttered slightly in the breeze, occasionally giving an impression of his carved features but it remained hidden. A mercy, he supposed as he looked at that statue, that he was remembered for his folly. Given the severity of his crimes, and his assumed pettiness of Elincia, she would have stricken him from the records. To be forgotten by all save those who lived during that climatic week. A fate far worse than death.

He was drawn out of his contemplation by Caliban who nudged his shoulder. "Have to say, I think a bag over your head does wonders for your physique!" Ludveck responded with a less than gentle cuff on the back of Caliban's head. "Mom! He touched me!" Caliban imitated a high pitch voice, with caused Agatha to roll her eyes and sit between the two of them.

"Keep your hands to yourselves or next time you can sleep in the stables." Ludveck smiled under his cowl. He was starting to take a liking to this old woman. Kind, smart, and a tongue sharper than Caliban's was something he didn't think existed in the beorc lands. As they rested there in the chilly afternoon breeze, he could not help but feel a pressure be taken off his shoulders.

Caliban reached into his coat pocket and pulled forth his packed pipe and looked over to Agatha. "Mind if I smoke?"

"I never understood the attraction of inhaling fumes of noxious plants that damaged ones lungs. It is poison by another name. But please, feel free to kill yourself." If Caliban felt something at those words, he didn't show it and lit up his packed pipe. Changing the subject, Agatha stretched her feet out and reclined. "A cold afternoon but pleasant none of the less. Reminds me of my younger day when I would visit the cities quite often."

"Came for potion supplies for your mentor?" Ludveck asked as he adjusted his owl as a shift in the wind hit his bare skin.

"No, I ran with more than fifty mercenary groups in the past century alone. We would always go through a town we were hired to serve and sampled their wares." Agatha said, smiling a little bit at the fond memories.

"Just in the last hundred years? How old are you?" Ludveck asked as Caliban coughed out a lungful of smoke in surprise at this new revolution.

"Old enough to make a lot of laguz jealous." Agatha responded with a smirk. "It was always an adventure. Fighting with mercenaries, sacking towns with mercenaries, and, quite often, sleeping with said mercenaries. Centuries upon centuries of carefree no strings attached relationships, oh such pleasant memories."

"… And just like that we learned something about Agatha we didn't know moments ago." Caliban explained with an almost mortified face as Ludveck couldn't help but chuckle at the misfortune of his companion.

He then felt something flare at the edge of his vision and caused his mind to itch. He felt attracted, for some reason, to head off in that direction. Something called to him. He did not know what it was, but there was some reason or urge to pull him towards it.

He got off the bench, murmured to Agatha that he would be back before long, and headed off in that direction. The sensation lead him to a small and dark alley out of the way of the main foot traffic, surrounded by vacant buildings left to the ravages of time. He instinctively reach down to place his hand on the hilt of his sword, just to be reassured that it was there.

He stepped into the alley and breathed in the air. It was thick with pipe smoke, and the smell was familiar to him. He has smelled it before, this mixture of licorice and vanilla. Bastian often smelled of it, but Ludveck knew the Count did not smoke that type. Someone in his employment did.

That person stood in front of him now, red bandana around the neck and a small briar pipe letting of wisps of that smoke. Around his waist there was five silver daggers and a bandolier of throwing knives, the profession of assassin spoke loudly. "I heard from a little bird that you have escaped your prison. Needed to see if the rumors were true."

Ludveck cracked a dry smile. "Good to see you too, Volke. Bastian still holding your leash?"

"Twenty-five gold will get you that answer." Ludveck didn't reach for his coin purse, his hand still firmly remained on his father's sword hilt. "Though I am on a contract right now, but I dislike standing orders. Regular pay, regular brakes for my smoke. Not a lot of challenge working corporate. Eventually every dumb bastard with their name given to me on paper remains nothing more than a name given for me to kill. So when you come along, it gives me a chance to enjoy the thrill of the hunt."

"Come for my head then?" Ludveck tightened his grip on the blade, while his other hand reached towards the bag Agatha gave him last night as an idea formed.

"Not exactly. I am to kill you if you seem like a threat, but I need to report your presence or lack thereof. I doubt you would just let me disappear, so I might need to take the initiative." Volke slowly slid out one of his daggers, idly playing with it.

"And how much to remove that contract and replace it with one of my own?" Ludveck asked.

"You couldn't afford it." Volke was about to say more but it was cut off when a leather sack fell to the ground in front of his feet with a clump. He picked the bag up and felt the weight, an eyebrow arched as he felt the shapes. In truth, Ludveck hadn't reached into the bag or looked in to it. But he had an idea of what was in the sack based on the sounds it made.

Volke parted the drawstrings and an uncharacteristic look of surprise washed over his face for a moment. It finished in an instant, and Volke pulled out a blue diamond the size of a child's fist, flawless in its design. Ludveck's own breath hitched as he saw it. He though they were rough cut gemstones or semi-precious rocks. Something that would rival the crown jewels of Antila was far from what he thought they were.

Volke placed the gem back into the bag and looked in at the many more similar gemstones ranging from elongated sapphires to tear drop emeralds. "That… is enough for me to abandon my current employment but not enough for me to commit regicide."

Ludveck folded his arms. "I have no need of a queen killer or a kingslayer. I have need of a spy and a master assassin as the job sees it."

"Then, sir." Volke said in a respectful tone as he slid his knife away and placed the leather bag into his own. "What is my new contract?"

Ludveck didn't need to think too hard about what he wanted Volke to do. He had mulled the process over of hiring a minion to do this for quite some time to occupy his mind. Now that he had one of the best, he could rest assure. "Keep your current contract in name only, let no one know that I am here. Report a negative to your employers, and I want regular reports on the current political status of Crimea. In particular, I wish to know what fate has befallen my brothers and Erebus. Once I have a solid foundation of that, I will give you further orders."

"As you wish. How shall I find you?" Volke asked as Ludveck turned around to leave. He paused in his footstep, and placed his hand under his chin in a moment of contemplation. Ludveck then shook his hand away as if dismissing a thought and continued his walk.

"I leave that to you. If you could find me here, far from blessed Melior, I think you could find me just about anywhere."

* * *

Rested and refreshed, Mia and her companions entered the markets of Dunkirk, looking at the variety of wares to be had while also using their other senses to focus on the telltale coming of their foes. There was a sharp smell of supercharged air that preceded another storm, and a gentle shift in the wind that awashed their senses with cold mountain air rolling down from the tops of the peeks.

Mia walked through the last few of the markets, looking for some sign that the monsters are here. They would not attack unless they thought that they have the upper-hand. In her fight against them and the two slaughters, they were not true warriors, rather they were skirmishers who wanted victory in moments. Mia hoped that they would not find such a thing in this blessed of cities, but the prize this city offered was tempting for any predator.

She felt someone brush against her arm. Ordinarily should have disregarded it, but when she saw someone dressed in a snow white cowl was the one who was it, she felt her heat both freeze with surprise and pound again with suspicion. The figure is also wearing ornate battle plate and three curved blades are strapped to his back and sides.

Infiltration before the slaughter perhaps? Mia shook her head, she was being unreasonable. Many wore white cloaks when the traveled the winter streets of the country, to hide themselves from the face of the bandits during the snow storms. But if they were lost, red scarlet would be placed on the inside to find help. This one wore pure white, and riding armored sabatons were worn on his feet. Mia slowly began to follow this stranger, noting that there was a small amount trailing the ground behind the individual.

The figure was walking back to the central park, somewhere Mia had never been before. She had always wanted to visit the monuments carved from stone and casted from bronze, but not like this. The figure is focused on something in the distance, so much so Mia is not detected even when by all accounts she should have been.

She is not alone, behind her the other companions saw this same stranger and followed Mia. Even if it was not the mistress of slaughter, the park center would be a good muster point for when an attack would happen. Slowly they part from the main crowd, and Mia makes her move. She elongates her step more so than her natural stride would allow to clamp the tail of the cloak on the ground.

The hood on the figure pulls back, and in that moment time seemed to slow to a crawl like blood on glass. The hood slowly falls and dark hazelnut hair meets Mia's eyes. Scarred and tanned skin with equally dark eyes grow wide with surprise as his hood falls. His face looks familiar, but Mia could not recall. It looked different than the itch that her mind told her, but there was something that-

With an instant, grey flooded her vision with burning viridian runes slammed into the wall next to her. Her mind takes a moment to comprehend that some lunatic threw a sword between the two of them, and she felt her own sword fly into her hands. The figure pulled his hood back up and spun around, looking first at the defiant Mia, with shadows covering his features, then looks to the sword. Mia follows the look, and her breath is hitched in her lungs.

Pinned to the wall by the sword, was an archaic arrow.

Moments later, the screams of surprise and horror filled the air with palatable ferocity.


	10. Rematch

All around them, chaos erupted from the city. Many rushing for the relative safety of their homes while the town guard mustered to a rally point. Mia did not need to wonder who the guards would be fighting, she knew who they were. To find them, she needed to find where the fighting was going to be its heaviest.

She spun away from the person moments earlier she thought was the Huntress and saw that her companions had moved towards the sound where the fighting was. It was almost like a sudden enthusiasm gripped them. Not for the joy of the kill, but they now had a chance to stop a massacre many times greater than what they had seen before.

Crowds of civilians rushed past them, Mia and the others pushing them out of their way in a gentle manner but with the force of necessity to give them plenty of girth. They moved through to the blacksmith portion of the market district, the smell of iron permeated the place. It would be difficult to use their sense of smell to see if they could determine if the fighting was here. So she used her other senses to compensate.

Mia tuned out the screams and other background noises as she focused everything into her sight. She looked over the heads of the noncombatants that rushed past her, looking for some form of her opponent. Cloak, armor, anything that told her the murderess was there.

She didn't need to look long, eventually she found them. She saw the huntress, holding the face of a squirming merchant. The Huntress tilted her head to one side, giving the person a moment of consideration before she closed her fist. The skull resisted at first, but a spatter of bloody grey matter showered the Huntress and every being within five paces.

The corpse fell to the cobblestoned streets, the face of the merchant locked in the moment of terror held in the hands of the murderess. She looked over it curiously, as if entertained by the murder she committed, before raising her head to look over to the four mercenaries who had their weapons and spells at the ready to strike her down. " ** _Ahhh, hello child. I have been waiting for you_**."

"Kill them all." Mia said in an even tone that betrayed no emotions besides seething anger. Mia rushed forward, her sword held close to her chest in a defensive charge. Some of the foot soldiers that surrounded their master rushed in to defend her, but Mia would not be stopped. With a wordless cry that escaped her lips, she leapt in to the melee frenzy.

She swung Alondite down low, striking down one hollow automaton before it could bring the weapon to defend against her onslaught. Another swung down with a spiked club, and Mia effortlessly dodged the strike. She was ready for these creatures now, no surprises would take her this time. She thrusted her blade into the chest of another, and released it with a well-placed kick. One caught the collar of her linen shirt, Mia responded with a forehead against the helmet Titania brought her axe crashing down on another, sheering the armor as if it was little more than paper.

Behind them, Ilyana and Rhys aided them in what ways they could. Light radiated from the pages of the lightning mage's spell book, wards of power engulfed them as crackling bolts of energy shot forth from Ilyana's fingers as she threw her mental might against the creatures. Rhys intoned prayers of protection, and the volleys of arrows that flew at him bounced harmlessly off as if it was rain.

The Huntress let loose the sign that she was rather annoyed with her soldiers. " ** _Well, if you want something done right_** …" She kicked the sides of her mount and drew forth a scimitar style weapon and rode forth at the group at full speed. The curved blade cut the air with a wail and she aimed to strike Mia with the weapon. The latter managed to raise her sword at the last moment to block the blow, a deafening ring echoed through the area. The Huntress continued past Mia and slashed out at Rhys, who rolled to the side to avoid the incoming blow.

Mia readjusted her grip, and tried to figure out how best to counter her. The claymore was a good weapon, especially a blessed weapon like Alondite, it was designed for cleaving and piercing plated armor. However, there was not much room on the hilt for her to adjust her grip to make it affective against the mounted fighter. That gave the Huntress the advantage, but Mia would level the playing field.

The Huntress readied another attack, but a few arrows pierced her armor that covered her left arm, forcing a gasp in pain to escape her lips. The two of them looked to where the arrows came from, and saw a few blue armored and cloaked city guardsmen armed with bows quivering in their hands. " ** _Inexcusable. I will let none interrupt this_**." She flung the arm in one direction, and the arrows dislodged from her arm to fall to the ground coated with light red blood.

The rider and the horse creature quickly turned to address the soldiers. "Run, you fools, run!" Mia yelled at the top of her voice, but by the time the words left her lips it was too late to do anything. The horse changed form in the blink of an eye, taking the form of a pale and hairless wolf-like animal. The Huntress leapt off the mount with the grace of the wind itself. Her mount, on the other hand, had begun to feast.

Sharp incisors tore through links of mail and leather the soldiers wore like gristle, and the snapping of bone filled the air that was only drowned out by the screams of the men dying. Torn limb from limb as the creature devoured them in a shower of gore. Where once stood three men bearing the blue and white coat of arms of Dunkirk, now only piles of meat and puddles of blood remained.

The Huntress looked back at Mia and her party, a merry laugh escaping her lips. Within her hands she held her scimitar like weapon along with a janbiya dagger. " ** _Now, where were we again?_** "

* * *

Ludveck pulled Caliban's sword out of the wall and tossed it to the blind man, whose dead eyes flared with an eldritch green and blue hue as Agatha who initially looked around with confusion at what was going on, partly the chaos and her former blind pupil was throwing his blade around like a deranged lunatic. With a scowl on his face, he pulled free a great two handed blade with a slight curve in it. "Almost took off my nose with that throw, you blind bastard. Next time I'll just keep it."

"You wouldn't." Caliban responded as he adjusted the pipe in his mouth and twirled the sword around in a flurry of colors as the blade lit up with ancient energies. He brought the blade to a halt with a snap, and lowered his head down as he murmured a prayer. "Ancestors, guide my blade and be my sight in glorious battle this day. Old fathers, grant that my hands be steady, my speed true, and my aim keen. Greatmothers, if the worst comes to pass grant me forgiveness and a place in the eternal halls."

"If they don't aid you, it looks like we will be meeting them soon enough." Ludveck mentioned to Caliban as a group of three mounted monsters on hairless horses with wicked curved hooves turned to face them as they slid the slaughtered off of their spear points. "Agatha, get out of here for your safety."

Agatha stepped away, but then turned so that she was in front of the two swordsmen with a smoldering spark in her eyes not yet seen by either of them before. "I am capable of holding my own. Besides, I am familiar with these… things." She whispered almost to herself on the last sentence. One of the riders charged at her, iron lance pointed down towards her heart and aimed for the kill. Before the spear could connect with her heart, she acted.

Ludveck had seen graceful swordsmen and women before, how many of them used the grace of their feet rather than pure strength. However, they seemed like clumsy oafs before Agatha. Time seemed to slow down for what seemed like seconds as Agatha struck out. He saw one of those hands firmly grip the spear point and she lifted herself up on the weapon, her nimble feet ran up the shaft of the weapon. It was like a torrent of water enveloping a stone, so fluid and absolute in its assuredness. There was a series of silver flashes in the dying sunlight that played with the fires around, and she leapt back down unto the cobble stone, a long sword made of the purest silver and the hard wood sheath in her other hand. The helmet of the empty wider fell in two even pieces on the ground next to her. The rest of the rider and the mount followed suit, the armored shell splitting with the flesh of the mount.

She rose back to her full height, the other two creatures seemingly taken aback at how easily their comrade was dispatched, or the closest copy of that emotion that soulless automatons could show. Ludveck and Caliban moved up to Agatha, party to salve their shocked and wounded pride while also to lose some frustrations that had been building up inside them. They spoke in a tongue that was impossibly foreign to Ludveck and Caliban that their ears hurt listening to it. Agatha responded in the same language, her voice angry and obviously condemning them to the darkest abyss in the afterlife.

One more charged, and Ludveck intercepted this spear. His father's primary blade was a massive curved edge of steel, designed for fighting mounted combatants and it would prove it's worth soon. The rider thrusted forward the ancient halberd, which Ludveck parried easily. He changed his grip mid flourish and thrusted the blade between the lobster-plates on the armor, pinning the warrior on the tip of his blade. Caliban leapt over Ludveck and delivered the killing blow, the armor was torn with sickening ease under the rune enchanted blade. Like a headsmen delivering divine justice, Caliban removed the head and armor plates with a contemptuous ease.

Others came out from the fire and smoke, those that were not on mounts but carried themselves forward with the same unyielding purpose as the tide slowly rising. Caliban rose back to his feet and stood next to Ludveck and Agatha, each of them readying their own blades to bring an end to the defilers.

* * *

Mia swung Alondite again, a blanket of thick smoke bisected as she did so. Again the Huntress raised her armored gauntlet to block the blow and return the strike with one of her own. Mia slid her blade just in time to intercept the strike from the blade, turning it into a blunt blow that threatened to shatter her arm under the pressure. Mia grunted in discomfort, but pressed her assault.

All around them, more guardsmen or soldiers who were on leave in Dunkirk were beginning to form some semblance of a plan beyond simply being a nuisance for the Huntress and her pet to dispatch with ease. Titania, Ilyana, and Rhys were assisting them in holding off other creatures who came to protect their leader, as well as fighting the hairless beast. They fared better than they had previously, but considering the slaughter the flayed ones, a name Ilyana gave them and appropriate one at that, were capable of… it was not a pleasant reassurance.

Mia alone continued her fight amongst the burning city with this white robed rival. Now more than ever, she belied that this was the foe her old crone had foretold her. The dueled like the legends of old amongst the blood swept cobblestone streets, their ankles submerged in the crimson life fluids of beorcs and laguz alike. There were a few slain flayed ones, but they dissipated into the wind without so much as a pile of ash.

Mia was exhausted, blood trickled down the few chance blows the Huntress managed to land on her face and body. Every last iota of her reserves were being thrown into the fight, and her willpower was slipping through her fingers like sand. The Huntress on the other hand, seemed reenergized by the conflict. The Huntress hammered blow after blow upon her, seeking to remove Mia's torso from the rest of her body. Each time, Mia managed to protect herself from the final killing blow, but it was something that could not be kept up forever.

" ** _Giving up already? Where is this fight you showed me earlier, I was hoping for something of a challenge_**!" The Huntress bellowed as she cleaved down, forcing Mia to jump back. The blow shattered the road beneath them and Mia knocked up a splash of blood, coating her frame. The sensation was dull, only a hint of warm liquid was registered in her mind.

 _She is strong, stronger than any swordsman or woman I managed to face._ Mia felt those thoughts race through her mind, and they felt as if they all were a hard labor to do. _I have only been staying alive because of the reach of Alondite and my defensive technique. All I can do is hold off the inevitable sword strike, and she could easily kill Titania again without much effort. Our blades our equal, I need to press that._

Mia stood straight and hefted her blade to an angle that was parallel to her waist, an invitation for the Huntress to strike. The Huntress did so without much of a thought, her sword recovered and goal to dash Mia's head and brain to the cobblestone. The sword came, and Mia responded by lashing out with her own. It was delivered with strength Mia did not expect herself to have, and when their blades locked, Alondite cut through the edge of the other blade and through the spine. The sword shattered and Alondite continued. It connected with the armored helmet and caved in the left side of it, causing a loud scream of pain to escape the Huntress.

Victorious, Mia recovered and was ready to bring down another blow, and claim the head of this murderess once and for all.

Before she could however, the Huntress recovered. Using janbiya dagger, she rushed up and drove the curved blade into the abdomen of Mia. Not even waiting for the pain to register, the Huntress tore the blade from left to right, cutting Mia's stomach open and allowing blood to spill forth in a torrent.

Mia fell back, her head hitting the stone and blood, both her own and others flooded her mouth. The Huntress stood over her defiant, ready to deliver the coup de grace.


	11. Reckoning

**A fair waring, this chapter veers to the m rating potentially due to violent imagery. It should be the darkest the story goes.**

* * *

Mia looked up into the eyes of her killer, everything else around her fading in to numbness. She couldn't hear anything besides the frightened beat of her own heart, the breath that escaped her lungs in ragged gasps, and that of her opponent. She could almost feel the satisfied smirk the Huntress was wearing under her helmet. She glared defiantly, but even she admitted that it looked like a foolish thing.

" ** _Child, you have lost_**." Besides any derogatory term for women, child was the insult that Mia despised the most. She would have voiced her objectio

n, were it not for the fact blood filled her mouth. " ** _Now there is only one thing left to do for you_**." Mia screwed her eyes shut as she waited for the killing blow. " ** _I must honor you_**."

Mia opened her eyes and though they were foggy, she could see that other monsters were surrounding her with their backs turned to her. " ** _You are a tough fighter, and for that I will make sure that you accompany me to every slaughter I attend. Your skin will be my tabard and will herald my arrival to the battlefield while your head will be placed upon my banner_**!"

That same knife that caused the wound upon her stomach now hovered over the wound, as if looking for the perfect place to start stripping the skin from her flesh. It found an open point and painfully the dagger prodded the wound, satisfaction taken from the moan of pain that escaped her lips. " ** _Do not worry, you will die soon. However, I am afraid that you will be aware for most of it. They tend to black out once their entire torso has been relieved of their skin_**."

And with that, the pain began again with fresh intensity. Despite her best attempts not to give the Huntress any satisfaction, Mia threw open her mouth and wailed.

* * *

When that scream shattered all other sounds in the vicinity, no one fought with a greater disregard for safety like the commander of the Greil Mercenaries. Some would later speak it was as if an avatar of blood and anger made manifest. Others would say that she fought with the rage and skill of a demon, cleaving enemies from head to toe with ferocity.

However, even these descriptions failed to do such a scene justice.

When she heard that cry of pain from the young swordswoman she saw as the daughter she could never have, Titania flew into a rage. She was currently holding off a few murderers who were using this chaos as a way to ransack the city as it fell. But when she heard that, her defensive posture quickly changed to a berserker fueled aggressive one.

She hacked the first one in half, bisecting through the rib gage under the arms, adding his blood to the tarn that had formed around them. She blocked an incoming strike with her axe head and brained the next one with a simple stoke of her axe. The third tried to run, but Titania removed the need for his legs. To silence his mewling, she took his head a second later.

She focused her sights on the cohort that surrounded The Huntress. Each of them bore battle damage and wore it as if it was a badge of honor, signaling them as a warrior without any peer. Titania did not care, she would cut through them all. " ** _Make sure that none interfere with my work, soldiers. I want to make sure that this hide is extracted perfectly._** " The Huntress spoke calmly, while the sound of peeling skin with Mia's cry of pain complimenting the sound of connective tissue being cut permeated the air.

"One or a thousand, Urvan will see to it that you all are nothing but dust in the wind." Titania coldly responded, and lashed out. She was so wrapped up in her anger that she didn't notice Ilyana and Rhys coming to her aid, offering their skills with magic and the divine to aid her.

Two flayed ones stepped out of formation to engage her. Both of them had mighty weapons that were like her axe, powerful but slow. A mighty war hammer that crackled with eldritch power and a great sword imbued with several runes that pulsated with a heartbeat. Not only them, but the hairless beast heeded its mistress's calling and prowled at the edge of the shadows.

The moment of doubt passed, and instantly Titiania unleashed her fury against them. She swung in low with the axe, but it was blocked with the great sword effortlessly. The war hammer was brought down, the slow weapon easy to avoid but the concussion that shook the ground set her off balance. Ilyana responded with a bolt of azure lightning, striking the two soldiers with arcane power.

Coils of electricity enveloped them, but even that could only slow them, not kill. They struck out with their weapons, forcing Titania, Ilyana, and Rhys to go on the defensive. Rhys channeled all of his energy into casting wards of protection that would absorb most of the kinetic energy on the strikes that would eventually find their place on the redhead paladin and the petite mage. It was taxing him but it was also keeping his companions alive.

One made a mistake when it brought the great sword crashing down unto the stone next to Ilyana and buried itself in the street. The thing tugged on the blade, trying to dislodge it, but to no avail. Ilyana channeled all of her power to hold on the helmet. Using her body as a conductor, she channeled raw arcane power through to her opponent. Overwhelmed by the volatile energy, the thing convulsed and eventually turned to sludge. Normal steel and flesh becoming multicolored glowing glop that radiated heat and an awful odor.

Titania caught her break when she pressed the advantage of her cutting weapon against that of the blunt hammer. She feigned several attacks and slowly baited the soldier into a trap. She found her opportunity and thrusted her axe forward, nailing the creature right in the center of the chest, and then twisting the weapon to cleave open the armor. Staggering the creature tried one last strike but was easily dispatched.

Titania was about to turn her attention to the Huntress when she was blindsided by a force of pure muscle. She barely had time to register what was happening before she felt teeth puncture her armored gauntlets, piercing flesh and cutting bone. Dagger like claws slashed her face, drawing blood and a wordless cry of pain.

Then she was violently thrown aside, landing without any form of grace as her jaw was almost dislocated in the tumble. While she pulled her face out of the blood that covered the street, she heard a crack of thunder and two more cries. She spat the blood pooling in her mouth out and muttered a string of curses, gripping the haft of her axe as she did so.

Bloodied and bruised, Titania rose to her feet and tried her hardest to hold on to the axe as she looked down the beast. Bloodied drool fell between great incisors, the droplets falling into the mixture of life fluid beneath them. She struggled to control her breath, trying to show that she felt no fear at the monster that stood before her.

It growled, and was strong enough in that tone to keep Ilyana and Rhys from attempting to strike it. Titania's wounded arm was a testament to the strength this beast carried, crumpling fine steel as if it was paper. "Alright, let's get this over with." Titania whispered to herself, and the beast leapt at her with jaws agape. Despite her best attempt, Titania held the axe with the spear point out front and she screwed her eyes shut as she awaited the teeth around her throat.

It never came.

She heard a grunt of effort and a muffled growl. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the white cloaked figure, the same one Mia was intent on following before the chaos started, standing between her and the beast. A sword was driven into the ground between them, and both of the man's hands were holding the mouth of the creature shut.

When it looked like the beast would escape the white cloak brought back a gauntleted hand and struck the beast on one of its canine's. The blow was powerful, enough to cause the tooth to crack and break from the jaw. The stranger picked up the tooth and, after figuring a grip on the thing, drove it through the left eye socket.

The cry of pain was satisfying to hear, and was enough to cause the Huntress to stop her flaying. She pushed through her armored protection. Before she could curse, another cloaked stranger, dressed in stained black and a sword glowing as green as his eyes, decapitated the beast with one fell swing of his sword. The skin, muscle, and bone parted easily before the energized edge of the blade. There was a torrent of black blood, polluting the red that washed all around them.

"Archers, fire!" The white cloaked stranger commanded with a voice that radiated years of command and authority. A volley of arrows and bolts flew by Titania's head, finding their mark on the armor of the monsters. It was an annoyance more than anything, but a distraction none of the less. "Guardsmen, form up lines. Here stands your first stepping stone to reclaiming your city."

Titania looked behind her and saw roughly a hundred of the city guard, beleaguered but willing, to raise their spears, swords, and shield in a ten by ten grid. She felt as if she was about to collapse out of weakness, but suddenly felt a warm power envelop her. Rhys, using the last of his energy while Ilyana guarded him from any chance attack, eased the pain from her body. He could not heal her from all of the wounds, but he could dull them to give her enough strength to rescue Mia.

Another woman came to where Titania, hair as long as her own and white as hoarfrost. A long silver sword in her hands, and a passive reassuring smile on her aged frame. This new comer looked at the Huntress and glowered. She spoke a few syllables in an unknown tongue, and the Huntress responded with similar tone.

No more words were spoken, none would need to be. A few riders rushed in to defend their mistress, but Titania knew that they would not succeed. She would rush in, save Mia, and if the Huntress made the mistake of standing to fight, she would kill her.

The call was given and they charged the lines. The silver haired stranger was fast, faster than a woman many years younger. Silver bastard sword in hand, she charged the Huntress with the grace of a midsummer night winds. The two met with a doleful clang of their swords, while the two cloaked figures with the rest of the guardsmen engaged the remaining cohort of the soldiers.

Titania herself wanted to join the fight, to swing her axe in anger and to maybe kill a few of these damnable creatures herself. But even if she was not in such a wounded state, her pride would be her Mia's undoing, who may be hanging on by a thread to this mortal coil. Titania cared little for her life much anymore, she had seen and caused more death and sorrow than any five men at arms should. She could let Mia die with her, she would made sure that she would be taken to safety.

With the flayed ones preoccupied with the soldiers around her, Titania found it easy to slip through the gaps in the ranks. Mia laied in the pond of blood with Alondite not far from her, her stomach bleeding from the long slice. Upon closer inspection, there was no strips of skin missing or massive arteries sliced. It was clear that the Huntress wanted a whole hide, and to keep Mia alive for a long time while doing it.

Titania swooped down and picked up the wounded fighter with one arm and Alondite in the other. She affixed the sword to her back and carried Mia like an infant, tightly and with the care of the mother. By now a few of the flayed ones had realized she was there, but the two cloaked figures of black and white intercepted their blows that surely would have split Titania's skull open. "It is not safe for you here, milady." The black cloaked one said with a thick northern Crimean accent. "Take her and yourself to the Temple Quarter, it is safe and your wounds will be taken care of."

The two men then lashed out at the flayed ones with such similarity, Titania was almost certain that they were brothers. They pushed the creatures aside and made a passage for her into their lines. Titania nodded her appreciation, hoping to meet them again to repay them fully, and rushed past them. She wasn't completely helpless, she shouldered a flayed one into the awaiting pikes of a few guardsmen who quickly turned the monster into eldritch sparks.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fight between the Huntress and the white haired stranger. It was beautiful, each one of them were almost in a trance with swords moving so fast that they were almost steel colored blurs. Each of their blows were blocked and the return stroke was parried in turn, it was a fight that seemed more like a dance with death then a fight between two opponents.

However, the stranger looked over and saw Titania. For the briefest of moments, time itself willingly stopped. Titania locked eyes with the woman, whose dark eyes were slowly looking down to Mia in her arms. Titania looked to Mia, who was still wheezing a breath, then back to the stranger. Titania saw her mouth a single word.

She knew what that word was, and she felt a chill run down her spine.

Then time resumed, and the silver haired stranger returned to the fight to be violently knocked aside by an enraged huntress, jewels of viridian fire escaping her eye slits of the armor.

" ** _Enough of this. It seems I will not be able to get a fair challenge from this pathetic child without some interloper interfering with our fight. You, scarlet wench_** ," she pointed to Titania, who had Mia clutched in her arms and melting into the guardsmen, " ** _when she lives, and I know that she will, tell her to come to the mountains. I will line a path of blood and corpses to make sure she finds me_**."

With that said, she channeled a pool of dark magic, summoning bone and flesh to take the familiar shape of a horse. Flesh knitted together with tendons and skin slid over the meat in a motley assortment of pigments before it turned into an identical set of skin with bleached coat. The metamorphous was over in a scant few seconds, and the Huntress was upon the new mount that was identical to her old one. Her few remaining riders rode away with her, and the Guard gave their chase.

Titania wanted to chase them, but knew that Mia needed to see help. She hoped to the goddess that she would not be too late.

* * *

With one final strike, Agatha finished off the dismounted rider with a downward thrust through the heart, or at least where it should have been. Wisps of dark blue and green energy dissipated around the blade, and in a few moments there was no remains of the foe. All around them the battle damage was significant, houses were burning, torn down, or were nothing more than piles of ash. The city guard had begun to rally (perhaps due in no small part to their rescuing of various pockets of resistance to a unified fighting force), and while the cost would be high, they began to push back the interlopers. There would be many buried or cremated in the coming days. Many tears would be shed and answers would be demanded.

But the residents of Dunkirk would rebuild, they would endure as the people of Crimea have for centuries.

Ludveck slid his sword back in the sheath as Caliban did a post combat ritual of thanking his ancestors for lending them the strength at arms to survive this encounter with the aspects of death. He hobbled over to Agatha, a mace strike to his side sending shots of pain through his body as it moved, who placed the sword back in the wooden stock to reform her walking staff. "You seek these creatures out?" Her voice displayed a cold and clinical tone, it lacked any emotion either of the men expected from someone who had faced these things down and bested them.

"In a sense." Ludveck explained as he wiped a strand of blood from his forehead. The cut was deep, any deeper and bone would have been exposed. He needed to be more careful. "We have fought these things, though we lack a proper name for them. We-"

"Calligans." Agatha interrupted him as she surveyed the scene destruction that was all around them. "They are called calligans, and I thought they were destroyed centuries ago. I had every right to assume that. I had seen them humbled and shattered… I only know of eight that survived and they were dead ones walking. No way they could survive for this long and avoid our eyes…" Her voice drifted off to the point where she was whispering to herself.

"Calligans? Never heard of them." Caliban responded as he rose to his feet with his sword placed back in the sheath on his back.

"They were meant to be forgotten. Every record of them stricken from the books of Begnion and the laguz would no longer speak of them in their oral traditions." Agatha said as she shook her head, dispelling a bitter memory. "You fight them? You seek to remove the head of these resurgent monsters from their shoulders?"

Ludveck responded, teeth clenched hard in pain as he did so. "We would, but that has been left to another. We are to head south, to the bogs where we believe answers to why they have reemerged await us."

"Where you believe the answers are. I am skeptical on what exactly we will fine there." Caliban responded.

There were no words spoken for a while, and all around them the fires began to smolder as another storm began to form above their heads. Rain droplets washed down over their armor, cleansing them of the blood that covered their armor and stifling the smoke that filled the air all around them. Despite the better part of him, Ludveck raised his head and felt the cold rain wash his face. He licked his chapped lips, tasting perhaps the purest water in his life. It was cold, clean, and sharp; all around them the stains of the battle were beginning to wash away, or at the very least dull.

Ludveck took in a breath of fresh air and another taste of the water. When he brought his face down again, Agatha spoke. "Then even if it is a scarce lead, it is one we must follow."

"Agatha, I-" Caliban was about to speak more, but Agatha silenced him with a shsh.

"I will accompany you, no one alive knows more about these things than I do. And if you object, that is your own opinion, but considering the needs of the continent it is moot." She softened and laid a hand on Caliban's shoulder. "I know that you are afraid for my safety, but I will be alright. Now, enough delays. We ride for the south."

Instantly she took off to the stables, with Ludveck and Caliban not far behind her.


	12. Recuperation

It was the cold breeze that woke Mia from her slumber. She opened her eyes to a blinding white light, though with each blink of pain the world seemed to focus back in her vision. Grays, browns, oranges and red filtered in from the white slowly, until she could get an idea of where she was at.

She was in a stone room, a single window opened with the cold breeze freshening her room with new aromas. A modest hearth filled with a blazing fire offered a nice contrast to the chilly air. She was laying on a goose feathered mattress with similar pillows supporting her head and neck. The rest of the room was covered with paintings detailing the mythology to Crimea's founding along with a small prayer shrine in the corner with three lit incense sticks casting an aroma of vanilla and lilac.

Mia tried to move, but found her arms like wet noodles, and dulled pain shot through her entire body. She sighed and wiggled her body back to the headboard, propping herself up. She was in some sort of wealthy pilgrim chamber of a temple, or maybe a religious themed hotel for the wealthy. How did she get here? She didn't remember much after she blacked out from the pain, so she did not know who had saved her from the hands of the cruel mistress.

Maybe she didn't survive, and she had awoken in a waiting room of sorts for the afterlife. It seemed odd, but maybe if she didn't nod off during the dull sermons one of her foster parent's drug her to as a child, she would be able to recall if this was part of the afterlife. Though why did she still feel pain?

She used her fingers and created a tent in the sheets so she could glance down where the pain was coming from, her stomach where the damned knife pierced her armor and parted the skin. She wore a simple white, and she couldn't tell exactly if there was a lasting reminder of her failure to defend herself, or there was a clean recovery.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and she saw a woman clad in long white robes and silk gloves upon her hands enter. She carried a simple tray, and though her robes hid it, Mia could distinctly tell that the lady wore full battle plate under it. Mia became tense for a moment, thinking that the Huntress had snuck herself in under the guise of a simple priestess.

Her fears subsided when the lady rose her head. Mia saw two piercing amber eyes with long locks of dark emerald hair obscuring the edges. In her hands she carried a tray, though even under all that cloth, Mia could see the inlaid roses upon cold forged steel. She knew who the woman was, even before she removed her hood.

"Your Grace." Mia stated in a meek, though firm voice. Elincia sat down on the chair next to her bed, a tray covered with a simple cloth was place on the nightstand near her head. The Queen of Crimea waved offhandedly at the comment.

"Please Mia, I do not prefer that title to be used in the presence of friends in an informal setting. Just Elinica."

"Very well… Elincia." It seemed a little odd to say without a title, and Elincia had a little smile at the edge of her lips when the name came out. "As pleasant of a surprise this is, where are Titania, Ilyana and Rhys?"

Elincia placed a hand on Mia's shoulder, giving a friendly pat to calm the young mercenary. "They are alright, some injuries but nothing rest and magic were not able to heal. They have been watching over you for the past week, in between their own rest and helping the city rebuild. I offered coin for their support, but they refused it. It seems that old habits die hard."

Mia gave a chuckle, wincing at the dull pain in her stomach. "Indeed, though I wonder why the most powerful woman in Tellius would visit one of her former sellswords without a cohort of Royal Guards." Mia responded as she wormed her way so she was sitting at least to a similar height of the Queen to Kingdom of Crimea and the All-Mother to the United Bird Tribes of Pheonicis.

"I would say to others that it was to make sure that the people of my nation were safe and that rebuilding was underway. However, that would be a half-truth at the very best. I originally came here because one of my little doves spoke of a peculiar individual was in the area. I asked Bastian about it if he had heard anything, his response was that they couldn't be confirmed but I might want to take a sack of gold and a sword. I expected to either bring that figure to justice, be it through the law or the edge of my sword, and pay the individual who told the truth handsomely. I took a few of my handpicked Royal Guard that my uncle would allow me to take for reasons I couldn't fully explain to him. I thought that it would be enough. " Elincia said as she adjusted her white robes, revealing more of her porcelain colored armor.

"Instead you saw this." Mia gestured with her hand, wincing slightly at the dull pain. Elincia gently placed Mia's hand down on her chest.

"Try not to move. Your stitches are almost ready to come out, but you must not over work yourself. Here, this might take your mind off it. Food fit for the divine."

"Please. No milled food or that goddess awful tea you drink." Mia did an over exaggerated groan, "It smell like a sullied tavern floor and tastes only slightly better than it."

"Pishposh, I will not have you slander my favorite blend. Just because you don't have a refined tongue to appreciate the variety of flavors. But you don't have to worry about such things." Elincia moved to the tray that she brought in, removing the cloth covering the tray and revealing two drinking mugs crafted from animal horns that were filled with a thick dark alcohol. "Abby Bocks, reserved only for celebrations and fasts to the highest of the clergy. Though the ministers don't tend to guard their cases well in their greed."

She passed one to Mia, who weakly held it. She placed the rim to her lips and sipped the head, the roasted chocolate and coffee flavors washed over her tongue. As she drank, Elincia continued to speak. "But yes, I saw the smoke well before I came to the city, I doubt even Bastian had been able to foresee what has befallen this grand city. Thousands dead, tens of thousands injured, fully a third of the city is reduces to rubble. When I arrived, I knew I couldn't waste time looking for some defector. I handed almost all the coin I had on hand to the various hotels, temples, and apothecaries to subsidize their care for those who could not afford it. That is when I found Titania."

Mia lowered the tankard, now half empty with her thirst she did not know that she had. "I was told in depth of what happened and I saw to it that you would be taken into good hospitality in the abbey. It seems that you have something of a connection with this… thing." Elincia stated as she waved her hand, trying to figure an appropriate term for the Huntress.

"She is my foretold rival in white. I am to meet my true challenge in this Huntress, and in her defeat I will become a true paragon of the craft!" Mia stated with some enthusiasm, something that set Elincia off-balance. Any sane individual would treat someone who almost disemboweled them and threatened to make their skin into a tabard with something of fearful respect.

Elincia refilled her tankard with Bock and rose, looking out the window at the city. "While I myself believe that each of us are the masters of our own fate and we become the monsters or heroes by choices rather than the divinity throwing lots before we are crafted, it seems that this Huntress has taken a particular interest to you. If it is from that fortune an old madam told or by the way you manage to stand against her like none others." She took in a breath of fresh air and looked back to Mia. "I have heard disturbing reports of flayed corpses leading to the mountains southeast from here. I imagine that is where you will find her."

She drank some more of the dark liquid with a conflicting expression. Mia sensed something foul brewing in Elincia's soul. While she was not always a bright and joyful individual so long as the sun and moons were in the sky, but there was something more to her unpleasantness then a sack of a venerable city. Mia think she knew the answer, "This isn't an isolated event, is it?

Elincia placed her glass aside and placed her forehead in her hands. "No, it isn't. Riders and ravens have brought news far and wide of similar attacks. Volus seems to be bearing the worst of it, Geoffrey begging for reinforcements I cannot logistically commit, my husband had to fly to his home nation after he heard dark rumors of butchered roosts, and other nations are dealing with similar attacks."

She walked to the foot of the bed and sat down. "Almost two million lives are riding on every action I take. I want to send the army to rescue Geoffrey, but if another attack happens like this, Crimea will be defenseless with all of her forces tied up in the northern mountain range. Seeing another childhood friend possible dying because of my decisions…" She took in a deep breath of air. "I am the ruler of the nations, and I cannot afford to publicly appear unsure of my decisions. With the royal court still full of jackals who are looking for an opportunity to exploit the fear and uncertainty to their own advantages, I cannot confide with them about my doubts. The only ones in Melior I can voice my concerns with are my husband, Geoffrey, Lucia, Renning, and to a lesser extent a little lordling named Marek."

"You seem perfectly calm talking with me about your concerns." Mia stated as she returned to her drink, enjoying the warmth of the alcohol as it slid down her throat.

"Another reason why I wanted to see you privately." Elincia stated as she rose to her feet and turned to Mia. "I have been with you long enough to realize how important this fortune is for you. As such, it would be a waste of time and air to try and tell you otherwise not to head to the mountains to find this Huntress. However, as your queen, I command you not to give away your life foolishly in persuing her. I want you to find this monster, I want you to kill her by any means nessessary, and I want you to deliver some symbol of her undoing. Preferably, I want her head. When that is done, I have use for you in court."

"In case you forgot, I am a mercenary. I am not a knight of the realm or a lady of the council. We may be friends but I don't want to lead to another conflict of interest between you and the royal court." Mia explained. It wasn't that she did not to help her friend, but considering the hell that was raised when Ike was given some semblance of authority within the court both after the Mad King's War and Ahsera's Judgement, she doubt that she could withstand the typhoon of the outrage those blasted peacocks and not lop a few of their heads off.

"A simple problem to fix then." Elincia pulled free her ancestral sword, Amiti, and held it reverently to heaven for a brief moment before turning the flat of the blade to Mia. "Mia, daughter of the twin moons," Elincia stated with a formal tone to her voice as she used the term for a Crimean bastard or orphan whose parents were unknown, "as Elincia Ridell Crimea, first of my name, the Queen of Crimea and Poncilias, do hereby make you a peer of the realm."

The sword touched her right shoulder. "I name you a warden of the nations, upholder of the law, and knight-errant of the royal family. Do you take this honor and hold it dear to your heart?" Mia couldn't find the words in her mouth. Knighthood? A common woman, an orphan and a sellsword being offered the position in chivalry? This must have been a fevered dream, but she felt the cold steel press against her shoulder. She composed herself and responded.

"I do."

The sword moved to her left shoulder. "Do you swear to stand beside the nation in times of wealth and poverty? In times of ascension and decline? To serve with a pure and noble heart? But to also take initiative for the betterment of all peoples of the realm? To set aside all prejudices and preconceived misgivings of your fellow countrymen?"

"I do." Mia responded.

Amiti was removed from the shoulder and then placed upon Mia's head. "Then I grant you the title of Knight and all of the respective honors that come with the title. I name you Knight Mia Twinmoons, first of her name." Elincia sheathed her sword and reached into a pouch tied to her belt. She pulled free a pendent of the Crimean rose, the official symbol of knighthood in the realm which was to be worn on all clothes outside of battle armor and placed it in Mia's open hand. "With this emblem I bound you to the service of the court until death or dismissal. In the name of the goddess and of those who have gone before us, let it be so."

"Let it be so." Mia echoed. There was a silence after that, the kind that stretched into infinity. The gravity of the oaths and bonds to Crimea set in for her, but Mia felt oddly liberated. A mercenary turned knight, a chance to carve a real legacy for her and perhaps a future family; oh the songs they would sing about her now!

"I am having your armor reforged and Alondite re-sanctified by the artisans in the abbey. When you are ready, they will be waiting for you to give them purpose. When this is over, I will need you in Melior." Elincia said as she picked up her tankard and continued to drink from it.

"Understood Elincia, though we still have half a jug of beer left. Think you could stay a little longer to take your mind away from the troubles?" Mia inquired. Elincia nodded with a smile and the two began to speak like old friends.

Yet Mia could not shake the fact that she may have done something foolish. Something very foolish indeed.


	13. Redemption

**Almost finished with this story. I think saving the final fight between Mia and the Huntress would be a better way to end the story, as such that will be the final chapter. So I decided to tie off this loose end first. I hope to get that done soon and finish this saga, then I will begin another one.**

* * *

"Look." Ludveck pointed to a mountain at the edge of horizon. Agatha looked and saw a peculiar sight indeed. The top of the mountain, one of the tallest peeks in the distance, was obscured by dark clouds, rolling with thunder and boiling with lightning. A peculiar sight indeed for normal times, but these were no longer any normal times. Something was happening there beyond a freak natural occurrence.

"A question we will have to answer another time. The bogs are here, and what you say we will find will be in these swamps and not on snow and stone." Agatha responded, still looking at the occurrence in the distance before she gently patted her horse, reassuring it as the beast felt her discomfort.

For a week, they had been heading south, taking detours and avoiding the main roads so that they could not be found by either the patrols of soldiers or the raiding parties of flayed ones. The mark of the killers were found everywhere, taunting someone to follow them to this location and then to another. The group would be the ones to take up that offer, however they were searching for something else, and that had lead them to the bogs to find something important enough that warranted their efforts.

Though to be honest, even Ludveck was unsure if they were going to find anything of significance. The muck slowed them down to a steady trot that brought up one foul smell of swamp gas, and the flammable vapors forced Caliban and Ludveck to stop smoking after they inadvertently ignited an airborne pocket.

However, when Ludveck took in another breath of air, he tasted smoke. It smelled of a campfire, and something was cooking over it. The other two travelers realized it as well and as they made it to a clearing through the trees and reeds, they spied a small hut with a campfire outside and a lone individual dressed in furs stirring a pot. The man had long black hair that fell to his waist in groomed smoothness, and he stood straight with the poise expected of a man in royal court, not a hermit in the bogs.

The man noticed them and raised his head, revealing a paled expression laced with a gaunt facial expression. There was a cloth wrapped staff laying on the ground near the fire the man reached down to pick up. Ludveck raised both of his hands away from his sword in the universal symbol of peace. "Hold, friend. We are but simple travelers who mean you no harm unless you invite harm upon yourself. Our swords are for our own protection."

The man still held the staff, but he seemed slightly more relaxed with peace settling into those enthralling steel blue eyes. "Apologies. I have not seen another mortal unless he meant violence. I have nothing to offer you but a fire to warm yourself nearby away from the swamp gas. Maybe some food if you are willing to part with some of your rations." His voice was distinct, summoning from three different worlds that seemed to intertwine and mesh

The three stopped, Ludveck dismounting first followed by Agatha. However, Caliban was a little more reluctant to dismount, clear that he was locked in thought. However, he eventually came off of his steed, though he pulled his black hood up so that it obscured more of his face. Though Ludveck saw the crumpled face of almost knowing. He turned back to the hermit, and reached into his saddle bag, pulling free a head of cabbage and a loaf of sourdough bread. "Here is what I believe we can fully afford to part with. Please, accept it."

The man looked at the dark purple head of cabbage and the light brown crust of the bread and took it with a nod of thanks. "Thank you, I was beginning to doubt if there were any more good souls left in the world."

"I am surprised you even think there is a chance for good in the world." Ludveck heard Caliban mutter under his breath, thankfully quiet enough it could easily be contributed to the rustling of the reeds in the wind. Agatha similarly heard the noise and gave a very damning look to Caliban with the man's back turned to the pot. He was string the stew filled with okra, chilies, and some rabbit meat and despite the simple quality of the food… it did have a pleasant smell to it. The man began to tear the outer leaves of the cabbage head and toss them into the pot, string it with a crudely made spoon.

The three travelers sat on stones next to the fire, taking comfort in the warmth. "You seem like an odd character to be out here on your own accord, especially with the peace and prosperity the nations have developed between each other in the recent years." Agatha spoke softly.

"I may sometimes miss the luxuries a city can offer, but it is peaceful out here, and I have taken accustom the loneliness. It isn't the best living conditions, but I survive." The man chuckled as he tasted the food.

Now Ludveck could tell that Caliban was boiling under his skin to this man. The two hands constantly balling and un-balling, the sharp breathing, and the slight shiver to his frame. These two had a past, and if it wasn't addressed soon, swords would be drawn. "Though I do have to ask, what brings you three out here? This is away from any trade route and no villages are this way." The man asked as he spooned some of the stew in to a fire baked clay bowl. "Only someone coming this way must be looking for something of great value."

"I believe we may have just found it." Caliban responded with artic coldness in his voice. He rose from his seat and walked over to the stranger with a hand on the hilt of his blade. He stepped until he was practically on the man and planted his face right next to the stranger, who dropped the bowl in shock at the face he saw. He recognized it, even through the pure white eyes and various scars across the face. "I am surprised your head isn't on a spike where it should be. I would have put it there myself if I could for all of the things you have done, Lehran. Or do you prefer your moniker Sephiran? I forget which one you prefer."

"Caliban… I wondered if our paths would ever cross again." Sephiran responded with renewed composure. The other two were still, surprise written all over their faces. Sephiran? The Prime Minister of Begnion alive and hiding like a thief from the law? "I am surprised you are alive and well, save the eyes. What cruel fate befell them?"

"Don't start to act like you care, you pathetic excuse of man. You wanted to see the world burn, and I wanted to see none of it!" Caliban was about to pull free his sword, though Ludveck and Agatha rushed to separate the two of them. Ludveck pulled Caliban away, but he would not silence him. "I followed you when my homeland was invaded by your orchestration. I listened to you and your plans for the future while the current plan destroyed my house root and stem! I fought beside you as you sought to slaughter the entire world! Do not stand there now and speak to me of concern for the well being of someone you saw as a disposable pawn!"

Tears rolled down from his dead eyes, Caliban struggled against Ludveck's embrace to strike Sephiran down while Agatha made sure there was enough distance between the two. Sephiran was composed, though the verbal assault showed wounds. There was a look of genuine pity, but how honest it was only the divine knew. "I realized the error of my ways, and have sent myself into exile to amend it! You were the son of the Great Headsmen, and I provided you with a means to put the violence that flowed in your blood to use. You were consumed with grief and wanted to see the end of it all to placate your heartache."

Caliban growled, and with unknown strength, he shoved Ludveck off of him into the muck. He drew forth his sword. "My anger would have been slated the second Pelleas and every last one of Ashnard's bastards with their brood-mothers met the edge of my family's blade, Iustitiae." Caliban gestured to the blade, the execution blade of Crimea. "But you… you turned me into a monster who sought to flood the world again. You deceived me into joining your... Disciples of Order who were only to be the last to die if you had your way and the world was wiped clean of all life! All because as the last vestige of some era and the loss of your kind! Hundreds, nay, thousands have felt that same pain and persevered through it!"

"You know nothing of the pain I felt that day or of the day I lost my beloved Altina!" Sephiran yelled back, and incurred Caliban's wrath. The young man strode forward, weapon gripped like an executioner ready to take the head of a criminal. Violence and malice filled the air around them, and to their surprise it was dispelled with a simple command.

" ** _Cease_**!" The voice boomed over them and all turned to face the direction from which it came. Tall and clad with stainless armor, the Calligan Lord stood tall and proud with helmet on his head and an unsheathed blade in his hand. Behind him stood eight more flayed ones, armor fastened with many laurels and battle scars from ages past and their unarmored mares with coats unblemished of spots or scars. Large frames of feathers were attached to their saddles, each one whiter than fresh snow save a droplet of crimson at the tip.

A reminder of their failure so many years ago that brought the continent to its knees.

"By my command, lower your sword." The voice was back to its normal tone and Caliban obeyed. He fell to his knees and planted the sword in front of him, head bowed. Ludveck kept his distance while the Calligan approached Sephiran and Agatha. "Lehran, despite our last encounter those many centuries ago… you are a most welcomed sight."

Lehran sighed, the weight of a millennium still on his shoulders. "Lord Triton of the Amethyst Mountain… some part of me knew you would never stay dead. Though I know that is not your body you hold, as I know that voice you speak from. Come to gloat over my miseries?"

Triton couldn't help but give a dull chuckle. "If I were to do that, we would be here for aeons- betrayer's sake Caliban, stand up! I am not the pontiff." The young man instantly complied and wiped his sword off on the edge of his cloak and placed it back in his sheath. "But I have not come to gloat over your failings, as you would be easily able to do it the same to my people as well. I come to you as an old friend who fought beside you and the other legends just as many times as we fought each other."

Lehran shook his head. "I have no intrests in raising another weapon, especially alongside the murderous likes of you. Leave me, and take the others with you." He shrugged Agatha off his shoulders, and began to walk away.

"Even if it was to stop the resurgence of that madness that fully twisted us in to monsters?" Triton spoke in an almost careless tone. Lehran stopped in his tracks and looked back. "The weeping stars arise in the evening, and my dishonored dead have risen from my crucible. I am not their master anymore and the last of his kind leads them for the reason we were given life: to cleanse the world in a flood of iron and blood. If you have truly changed," he took a step forward, "and there is good in the world that you can see, I need you at my back as we close this chapter once and for all."

"You speak to kill your own, the last of your race." Agatha spoke, and Triton looked over to her. No words passed his lips but he gave a deep bow of his head in respect.

"Shells of my own making, not people. We have always been walking corpses, to fight and die simply so we _can_ fight and die." Triton sighed, and held out a hand.

Lehran looked at it, to the two heroes who occupied the same suit of armor. Both had fought him, but at the same time both fought alongside him. He took the gauntleted hand and the two men shook upon it. "By Ashera, Yune, and my beloved Altina, I promise to aid you."

"And by the spirits of the dead, I am honored." Triton responded. As he spoke, a great shadow passed over them, the breeze picked up, and a deafening roar drew near. Ludveck looked up to see a dragon swoop low, one he had never seen before. No scales or skin, it had a body made of pure amethyst with glowing blue sapphires for eyes. Spikes of the precious gem sprouted from the neck, and a crown of crystal horns jutted from the head. This was clearly the beast of a bygone age, never to be seen again.

Proud and majestic, it landed in the swamp looked to the rising moons, opened its mouth, and roared.


	14. Revenge

**Well, here is the final chapter for the story. I had a bit of fun writing it and I have a lot more story ideas coming soon for this saga. Thanks for reading and please enjoy the conclusion.**

* * *

The roar is what drew Mia out from her recollections, the sound of a mighty animal shattered the silence between her and the Huntress, who for a moment looked to see where the sound came from.

There it was; the moment she needed. Hefting Alondite with wounded hands, Mia strode forward with a wordless cry upon her lips. The Huntress realized the attack too late to properly defend herself, and the blow found its mark. The sword collided with the fair amount of armor protecting the side of the Huntress, however even the twice-blessed blade could not hope to truly rupture the plate and cause mortal wounds. Still, it was a painful blow that set the Huntress off guard as the attention momentarily was taken to the impact.

Mia swung again and again, each blow colliding with the Huntress' steel, but the result was always the same. The damage the sword sought to cause was negated by the armor or the Huntress regaining her footing to parry the blade blows. Now as the rain raged around them with unparalleled ferocity, Mia found it harder to gain her own footing. The Huntress, however, seemed to be rejuvenated by the rain and now that wound no longer seemed to harm her. The Huntress now fought with a mixture of anger and determination. The curved blade was hefted like an executioner looking at a condemned soul, then the strikes came.

Blow after blow collided with Mia, who tried to raise a defense but for each blow deflected from the onslaught, there would be only more. Death by a thousand cuts, like a cat playing sadistically with a captured mouse. Rhys was critically injured, and would not be able to heal her wounds, so Mia had to deal with this alone. She swung out, using the best of her agility to try and gain an upper hand against the foe. However, it was like trying to strike a stone covered in fog. For every blow that connected, three would miss and they would be just as many coming back against her. Unlike her normal demeanor, Mia began to swear audibly under her breath at such misfortunes.

The Huntress brought down her blade, but Mia ducked down, low enough to hide under a lip in the rock above her head, and scooped up the silver Alondite mid shaft of the blade. She expected the sword to carve through the granite once again, but even with enchanted living metal, there is only so much damage a weapon can deal and still keep the edge keen. The blade of the Huntress penetrated the rock, but the weapon became lodged within the stone. The Huntress was taken by surprise just as much as Mia was, and she tried to dislodge the weapon.

Mia then saw a weak point, a fatal one. Under the shoulder plate, there was nothing more than a thin strip of cloth protecting the armpit. A simple strike would pierce the auxiliary artery, forcing the body to bleed their precious life source. If she could work that wound open with her sword, then it would be a death sentence. No one, not even the mighty Huntress could survive such a blow.

But, Mia realized that the wound would not be one that gave an instantaneous death. She could pierce the artery, but there would be enough time for the Huntress to withdraw her blade and hack Mia to pieces. Her life would be forfeit, but she would bring the foe down, though not before she was brought down herself.

As tempting as it was to die the death of a hero, Mia knew that there were greater plans involving her in the future. Mia looked down between her feet and saw that their melee had taken their toll on the ancient mountain they were fighting on. A large, jagged crack was underneath the both of them, and they were close to the edge, overlooking a cavern's open maw. The maw was about thirty feet beneath them, enough to seriously wound or kill anyone who descended into it. So, it looked like she was going to spit in the eye of fate.

She smiled and gripped Alondite tightly around the center of the blade. She brought the sword up and thrusted down on the crack. The blow was powerful, and it caused the stone they were sitting upon to shift and protest under their weight. Still it remained strong. Mia struck down again, blade glowing with a silver flame as she did so.

The sword buried itself into the stone with ease, and with a simple twist of the blade, she dislodged the piece of stone. Mia rushed away as the jagged stone fell down with the Huntress along with it. She watched with some satisfaction as she saw the murderess fall down, shocked at the audacity of such a maneuver. Mia smiled triumphantly at humbled monster who fell to her doom.

Fortune, however, was ever the fickle mistress. As she fell down into the chasem, the Huntress threw her arms out at Mia, long coils of the material soon wrapped around her ankles. Before so much as an eep could leave Mia's lips, she was pulled down with the Huntress.

The fall was a slow one, the event seemingly dragging out for a century. Mia closed her eyes, and whispered a quick final prayer to the goddess hoping to survive or a painless death. Whichever was the most merciful.

She felt a quick flash of cold wet stone against her skin and the sight in her eyes were snuffed out.

* * *

Mia spat the blood that pooled in her mouth out on the jagged rocks around her. Her left leg was burning with pain, and a few teeth in her mouth felt loose; definitely not one of her better landings. She screwed her eyes shut as she pulled one of her arms out of the rubble, then the next one still holding Alondite. She sucked in a breath of pain as she did each of them, but it reminded her that she was alive and if her body had the strength to complain about her injuries, then she was far from dead.

She opened her eyes and looked around where she was. She fell into the cavern, limestone and weathered granite surrounded her, jagged designs carved by the elements were all around. The maw she fell in was deep, and she expected to be overwhelmed by the sensation of cold from the shadows and altitude.

Yet all she could feel was… warmth. Not from the injuries, but all around her she felt warm and almost at ease. No breath could be seen in front of her eyes, and there was light ahead. Warm oranges and yellows, not cold heavenly white. Hefting her sword over her shoulder, Mia saw a trail of blood, plenty of it, leading towards the light. Mia could not help but smirk. As foolish as the plan that almost killed her it appeared that the Huntress was down. Now, to kill the wounded animal.

Mia could not help but smirk at the prospect. How the tides of fortune had changed, and now with a severed head to cement her role as a member of the Royal Crimean Knights with great things promised in the future. Now she could forge her own destiny the bards would sing of, that future started today! What would they call her? Mia the Slayer of Monsters? Mia, the Avenging Dame of Dunkirk? The scenarios offered-

Her thoughts were soundly silenced when she gazed upon what was inside the room filled with light. Stones were literally aflame with intense heat from a hearth like creation at the end of the space, it illuminated the entire room, which stretched down twenty meters and at least half as wide. Where Mia expected to see the same stone outside, now there were amazing mosaic carved from polished natural stone. Images of flayed ones, dozens of them waging war against creatures unlike any had ever seen. Teardrop rubies fell from the images, manifesting the wounds that were depicted. From behind them stood a small glowing gem stone that grew bigger and bigger as she walked down the rows, looking at each of the images that depicted battle after battle.

Yet not all of them were of slaughter, there were many that showed images of the flayed ones unarmored and unarmed talking with other races the further she walked down the hall like area. An image of one taking to common looking beorcs, another to the gathered leaders of the laguz with hands open in welcome. Then there was another with all of them kneeling to a pillar of pure light. Ashera, Yune, maybe Ashunera or perhaps some other being of divine creation. Above them were carved words in the stone in a language she did not understand. It was artistic, flowing and advanced well beyond what she had seen. Even the Zunanma and their language was not as imaginative as this.

All around her there were scattered pieces of daily life left there covered with dust. Tapestries fallen to the ground and threadbare garments laid haphazardly on overturned tables. Mia looked down to her feet and saw little figurines, commonly used to donate the placement of troop formations on a tactician's map, carved from a variety of stones, ranging from gravel rocks to gemstones of sapphires and emeralds.

Her gaze looked forward to the one in the center, the focal point of the mosaics. It depicted a lone flayed one, fully armored and coated in blue flame. In front of him was a young woman, also armored and with two swords tied to her back along with a similar pillar of light behind her. Her face appeared to be in a state of shock as the flayed one shattered a third blade over his knee. The inscription above the image was written in both her tongue and that of the flayed ones. _Your sword as your oath. Such has become your honor, 'knight' of the betrayer!_

And beneath that image laid the Huntress. She wore a simple cloth embroidered with runes, while in an iron bowl the living armor that covered her forearms laid. The rest was strewn chaotically around her, a blooded useless right arm laid at her side. Her breath was ragged and each one sounded like it took a day's effort to draw. Thick locks of sweat clumped hair was upon her head, matted with blood in some parts. The Huntress looked up, young features upon the blood red skin broken by tan tattoos that formed chaotic designs and surprisingly human eyes of light blue color. They were not aglow with anger and madness, and they would have invoked piety, were they not the eyes that had seen and done such horrible things.

She took in another breath of air and spoke in a very… shy tone. "This place… it has always brought me serenity. Here… I could-"Bloody spittle came out as the Huntress coughed, staining her simple cloth with light red liquid. "I could cancel his influence here… and here alone."

Mia readied her sword, awaiting the trap that she knew would come. The Huntress was obviously trying to distract her, bide the time to launch an ambush. Still, even with Alondite dangerously close and not a sword within reach for the monster… the Huntress did not move. If anything, Mia swore that the thing cracked a jagged smile. "But if you… you have that skill and blood… there may be hope yet."

"What do you mean?" Mia asked.

The Huntress laughed, but regretted it as she clutched her wounds in pain at the sudden movement. "Mia, do you think I orchestrated this all? That I raised a hundred and one towns across the continent under my own sword or by my command?" She coughed more blood, a torrent this time. "No… no, not by my hand or by my kind. We are but merely tools… tools once again to be used and disposed of once we are done. The Betrayer once… now this…"

Mia tightened her grip on the blade. "It does not matter. You killed those innocents. You _butchered children_ and hung their corpses to dry like animals. Regardless if you are under the thrall of someone or not, this is a well-deserved punishment for all that you have done."

Another laugh, another wince of pain from the Huntress. "You… you have no idea the gravity of your words. I have lived over a thousand years. I was part of the great flood of iron and blood that swept everywhere else besides your homeland. I have known my death… would come for thirteen of your lifetimes. Do not think you can scare me with it."

"Then what scares you, mistress of death? Your doom at the hand of your fated rival does not frighten you?" Mia asked as she pointed the tip of the sword to the neck of the Huntress.

"I know where I go when I die. So I do not fear death at the hands of some arrogant child who has misinterpreted her runes. I am only afraid of what is to come for the mortal coil." Mia hesitated from driving the blade forward and cut the neck open. She looked into those eyes that had seen so much destruction and saw the honesty of those words. "After you kill me, place your hands into the metal. I don't know how much you will learn, but perhaps you can understand… if she was alive she would be proud of you."

She… who exactly was the Huntress talking about? Before the words formed on her lips, the Huntress yelled in pain. Blood vessels threatened to rupture from her skin as they turned a sickly black color. The voice became that demeaning tone once more and the eyes began to glow once again. "Please… please… **_kill me as I am!_** "

Without any moment's hesitation, Mia delivered the swift mercy kill. She drove the blade through the throat, all the way through the back of the neck, and kept going. Eventually the blade encompassed the whole neck and the head fell to the floor with a sickly thud. Blood gushed over Mia, who closed her eyes and felt the warm liquid fall over her.

She opened her eyes once the rain of mortality stopped and looked down at the head. The head was back to the peaceful creature before whatever came over her did. Possession? It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility, considering all that had happened it was a distinct reality.

Mia sheathed her sword unto her back as she stooped down to pick up the head by the matted locks, and was about to make her way to the exit. However, she eyed the living metal that awaited in the bowl. Perhaps to humor the corpse, Mia reached out and placed her left pinky finger in the metal. It was surprisingly warm, and while it felt unusual, it was an enjoyable sensation that spread to the rest of her hand, then to the arm.

Mia's head snapped to look as she saw the metal being to leave the bowl and crawl up her arm. She dropped the head down and tried to remove the liquid as it moved. However, it only spread to her arms and as soon as it started, it stopped as it covered her hands and forearms. As Mia's mind was still reeling, the metal began to constrict and glow with a variety of colors. Mia collapsed to the ground, her head washed with pain. An unforeseen wind whipped around her, smothering the flaming stones and set within her bones ice crystals from a hell winter.

She looked around and saw a gray green cloud descend around her, words in a language utterly alien to her ears carried themselves to her. Ghostly images of flickered in the clout like thunderheads, each displaying some action that burned themselves into her eyes for a moment, only to be forgotten seconds later. A flayed one cutting down a deformed monster with a chant to his tone, then there was two conversing over a table. Soon there were hundreds of them, riding on a variety of mounts with feathered banners behind them on their horses as they rode towards another army many times their seize. A slaughter, fire and smoke overwhelmed her senses. Mia shook her head, trying to dispel any images. This was not real, nothing like this could happen.

Then the winds were silenced. She looked around and saw a tall giant covered in a funeral shroud, fully obscured by the illusion cloud. A clawed hand extended with sickening magic dripping from the talons. Words flowed from the giant's lips. They were familiar, it was magic symbols from books she had heard Soren reciting during practice. However, there was no tome and even though this was an illusion, Mia could feel the awesome power pulsating from the spell.

The chanting grew louder, and louder until it overwhelmed her every sense. Mia closed her eyes tightly and screamed but she couldn't hear it or even feel the vibrations within her throat. Just when she thought she would bas out from the lack of air, the chanting stopped. She opened her eyes and was not blinded by a flash of sickly green light nor any other color. Instead she saw shadows from into the shapes of men, flayed ones. Hollow, disciplined, and loyal. The creature with the clawed hands directed them, and she saw the villages that were aflame. Dunkirk, the plantation, the caravan, even the mining city of Volus. All reduced with blood and fire.

The vision grew in intensity as more images of slaughter washed over her eyes. Death and destruction, it was everywhere. Just when she thought she was going to drown in this madness, something caught her eye. She saw a person made from pure white light riding towards her with the breaking of the dawn behind him. Clad in stainless white and a hood above his head with an ancestral weapon upon his lap, he stopped before her and held out his hand to raise her. She looked up and could not see his face under the light.

Perhaps the Huntress was not her true rival, she wore white but did not arrive with the dawn. Maybe there was no fated rival, and it was all a way for her to become the strong swordswoman she was today. Still, there was hope that she would get her chance to fight the great rival she dreamed about.

She took the hand made of pure light, and peace washed over her senses. All pain and ailments seemed to melt away as she surfaced from the nightmare.

Mia looked up and saw the granite roof above her head. It was a relief, and she looked to her arms. The metal was still upon her, but it was like a gauntlet and when she thought about removing it the mental began to curl within itself and formed a compact ball that fell into both of her palms. Mia felt a smile grow on the edge of her lips. These needed to be examined, and if she could use it, well it would be one more trick for her to have up her sleeves. Perhaps literally this time, she mused as she placed the two compact balls of living metal in a pouch upon her belt.

Mia rose from her floor and scooped up the head and made for the entrance of the cave, where she heard others gather. Behind her the lights of the stones finally flickered out, and plunged all that she had seen into impossible darkness. Mia continued forward into the lightning washed skyline. She saw Titania, Ilyana and Rhys wounded but alive. "We had heard the fall from the stone and feared the worse." Titania said. "Did she-"

Mia stepped back into the rain and the light, head of the Huntress held aloft for the three to see. "I think she is dead enough to see that head planted on a pike upon the Walk of Traitors. That is all that matters to me, as a warrior and as a Knight of the Crimean Rose. The Huntress shall hunt no more!"


End file.
